OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


Their  men  do  the  fighting,  but  the  women  have  their  part" 

See  page  jo6 


THE 

CAPTAIN 


BY 
CHURCHILL  WILLIAMS 

AUTHOR    OF 
"J.    DEVLIN  — BOSS" 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 
ARTHUR   I.    KELLER 


LOTHROP    PUBLISHING    COMPANY 
BOSTON 


COPYR  I  GHT, 

1903,    BY 
L   O   T    H    R    O    P 
PU  BLISHING 
COMPANY. 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

ENTERED  AT 

STATIONERS' 

HALL 

Published  January,  1903 


'O  MY  FATHER 
AND    MOTHER 


2133815 


TO      THE      READER 

TJT7  HEN  they  loosened  the  Captain's  collar, 
is  is  half-hidden  by  the  grizzled  beard,  they 
found  a  narrow  ribbon,  and  fastened  to 
this  a  lock  of  woman's  hair.  Twined  about  it  was 
a  baby's  curl.  For  more  than  thirty  years,  in  the 
long  months  when  a  continent  lay  between  him  and 
the  woman  he  loved  and  the  child  he  had  never  seen, 
in  the  days  when  with  his  axe  he  shaped  a  home  for 
them  among  the  oaks  beside  the  great  river,  in  the 
five  dire  years  when  he  was  doing  his  best  for  his 
country,  at  first  unknown,  always  silently  and  with- 
out show,  again  when  his  countrymen  twice  laid 
their  fortunes  in  his  hands  and  paid  to  him  the 
honours  which  his  old  mother  had  always  said  her 
boy  would  win  —  during  all  this  time  these  rested 
above  his  heart.  And  so  afterward  to  the  end. 

With  a  part  of  that  time,  with  days  of  sunshine 
and  hard  work  in  the  fields  and  woods,  with  days 
which  were  less  bright  but  in  each  of  which  he  did 
his  duty  as  he  saw  it  then,  this  story  deals.  I  have 
tried  to  show  the  Captain  as  he  was,  simple,  unflinch- 
ing, patient.  I  have  chosen  to  call  him  by  the  name 


TO     THE,    READER 

by  which  his  neighbours  called  him  when  he  first 
came  among  them  in  the  little  settlement  on  the 
Gravois.  He  had  earned  the  name  by  courage  and 
loyalty.  No  name  ever  fitted  a  man  better.  If  my 
story  helps  to  make  this  plainer  and  you  come  closer 
to  him,  thank  the  many  faithful  workers  who  have 
written  of  him  from  a  knowledge  broader  and  more 
intimate  than  I  can  claim.  Most  of  all  let  me  pay 
my  tribute  to  him  who  has  told  his  own  story 
as  few  have  the  grace  and  skill  to  tell  of  great  things 
—  the  Captain  himself.  The  Captain  whose  whole 
life  is  poured  out  in  his  simple  words,  —  "  LET  us 

HAVE  PEACE ! " 


CONTENTS 


I.  ON  THE  GRAVOIS  ROAD 

II.  MR.  MAYHEW  AND  SOME  OTHERS 

III.  WAY  OF  A  MAID    .... 

IV.  COLONEL  MARSHALL  PROPHESIES 

V.  A  SQUARE  PEG  IN  A  ROUND  HOLE 

VI.  ABOUT  A  STORY  -  TELLER 

VII.  CROSSING  A  BRIDGE 

VIII.  THE  GIRL  FROM  THE  SOUTH 

IX.  ONE  NEW  YEAR'S  NIGHT 

X.  THE  SPARK     .        .        ... 

XI.  CALLING  OF  THE  DRUMS 

XII.  FLOUTING  A  UNIFORM    . 

XIII.  A  BAPTISM 

XIV.  BEATRIX 

XV.  THICKER  THAN  WATER  . 

XVI.  DONELSON 

XVII.  WHAT  A  LAME  MAN  DID     . 

XVIII.  OLD  FACES  IN  STRANGE  PLACES. 

XIX.  UNDER  THE  APPLE -TREES    . 

XX.  THE  WEDGE 

XXI.  FROM  THE  FRONT. 

XXII.  AT  HOLLY  SPRINGS 

XXIII.  MR.   LINCOLN'S  KEY       . 

XXIV.  BY  WAY  OF  THE  RIVER 

XXV.  "COME  AND  TAKE  ME" 

XXVI.  LEE          ....... 

XXVII.  THE  CAPTAIN'S  WAY      . 


PAGE 
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69 

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189 

199 

.  21  I 

.  223 

.  248 

.  264 

•  277 
.  286 
.  294 
.  308 

•  324 

•  338 

•  359 
.  381 

•  392 
.  415 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  Their  men  do  the  fighting,  but  the  women  have 

their  part"          ....       Frontispiece 

The  Captain page    16 

"  Kitty,  that  was  the  last  we  saw  of  him  "     page  152 

"  /  will  not !  "   she  cried,  and  threw  back  her 

head  .        .        .        .        .        .        .    page  436 


THE    CAPTAIN 


i 

ON  THE 
GRAVOIS  ROAD 

THE  axe  flashed  in  the  autumn  sunlight  and 
bit  deeply  into  the  log.  The  axeman  meas- 
ured each  blow,  his  feet  well  apart,  his  body 
rocking  on  the  hips.  He  was  of  middle  height, 
broad  and  sinewy.  His  shirt  was  open  at  the  neck, 
his  overalls  tucked  into  rusty  high  boots.  His  slouch- 
hat  lay  on  the  ground,  and  to  his  heavy  brown  hair 
and  short  beard  clung  many  chips.  Presently  he 
straightened  himself,  drew  a  hand  across  his  fore- 
head, and  looked  up.  It  was  a  grave  face,  square 
and  strong,  two  tiny  furrows  where  the  generous 
nose  sprang  from  the  broad  brow,  the  lips  well  set, 
the  chin  firm.  The  gray  eyes,  a  little  weary  at  the 
corners,  were  honest  and  fearless  in  their  gaze. 
They  brightened  as  they  swept  the  columns  of  oak 
and  spruce,  and  the  dark  clumps  of  underbrush 
whose  spice  filled  the  nostrils. 

Overhead,  a  patch  of  blue  roofed  the  clearing; 
on  three  sides  arched  the  green  of  the  woods,  on 

II 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  other,  through  a  thin  screen  of  bushes  between 
the  scattered  trees,  the  yellow  clay  of  a  road  showed 
here  and  there.  The  sounds  of  the  woods  filled  the 
axeman's  ears,  —  the  tinkle  of  a  near-by  spring,  the 
call  of  a  thrush,  the  thousand  murmuring  tongues 
of  leaf  and  twig  and  breeze.  But  weaving  itself 
through  these,  distinct  and  sweet  to  his  ears,  came  the 
broken  words  of  a  child,  and  his  eyes  drew  to  a  mossy 
knoll  fifty  feet  away  on  the  clearing's  edge.  Two 
children  there,  in  the  shelter  of  a  fallen  tree,  were 
building  a  bark  house.  The  baby  watched  the  work 
with  intent  gaze;  the  other,  a  boy,  builded  with 
great  care,  and  told  of  his  plan  with  every  fresh 
bit  of  bark  he  laid  in  place. 

The  axeman  watched  in  silence  until  the  builder 
looked  up  and  saw  him.  Then  he  laughed.  "  It's 
going  up  faster  than  mine." 

"  Yes,  and  it'll  be  big  —  bigger  than  yours  — 
when  it's  done,"  the  boy  called  back.  He  scrambled 
to  his  feet.  "  I'm  coming  to  see  yours."  He  came 
over,  his  knees  powdered  with  mold,  and  the  axeman 
dropped  his  blade,  and  swung  him  astride  of  the 
log.  "  Will  you  like  it  ?  Will  you  like  your  new 
home?"  he  asked.  "  It's  all  ours.  Will  it  be  better 
than  the  other  homes  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Of  course  it  will.  This  one's  in  the 
woods."  The  boy  looked  about  him  with  critical 
approval.  "  It's  awful  big,  isn't  it?  Show  me  how 
big  it  is." 

12 


THE       CAPTAIN 

The  axeman  pointed  out  the  green  stakes  which 
marked  a  rectangle  on  the  level  of  the  clearing. 
"  There,"  he  said.  "  There  and  here/'  He  turned 
to  the  piles  of  trimmed  logs  with  their  white  hewn 
butts.  "And  there,"  he  added.  "Floors,  walls, 
and  posts."  His  face  kindled.  The  memories  of 
six  hard  years  were  lost  in  the  perspective  of  as  many 
months  just  past.  They  had  been  months  of  joyous, 
hopeful  toil,  months  in  which  his  hands  roughened 
but  his  heart  grew  glad.  He  curved  an  arm  around 
the  boy.  "  Yes,  this  is  our  home,"  he  said  in  deeper 
voice.  "  Home  for  us  all." 

The  boy's  eyes  wandered  from  the  stakes.  He 
twisted  suddenly  about.  "  And  you'll  stay  here 
with  mamma  and  me?  Where's  my  room?"  he 
asked,  suddenly. 

"You  want  to  know  that  again?  Well,  here." 
The  axeman  stepped  to  one  end  of  the  staked  out 
space.  "  Here  it  is,  and  as  high  as  that."  He  held 
a  hand  above  his  head. 

"But  the  windows?" 

A  forefinger  drew  in  the  air  the  outlines  of  a 
window-frame,  and  was  dropping  when  the  boy  re- 
minded, "  You  haven't  done  the  door." 

"  Oh,  yes,  the  door !  It  will  be  here.  Big  and 
wide.  Like  this."  Once  more  the  finger  sketched 
a  frame  in  the  space.  Then  the  boy  was  satisfied. 
"That's  all  right,"  he  said,  "I  like  this  house. 
When'll  we  come  here?" 

13 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Soon.  As  soon  as  I  can  finish.  Mother  will 
be  glad,  won't  she  ?  " 

"  Mamma  ?  Yes,  she  will.  She  said  —  "  Sud- 
denly the  boy  saw  that  the  other  builder  had  upset 
the  top  story  of  the  bark  house.  He  cried  out  to  him 
to  stop,  squirmed  from  the  encircling  arm,,  slipped 
from  the  log,  and  ran  to  the  scene  of  destruction. 

The  axeman  leaned  on  his  axe  for  a  minute,  and 
stared  at  the  ground.  "  It's  a  fresh  start,  sure 
enough,"  he  said,  half  aloud.  "  This  time  is  for 
good  and  all."  His  fingers  closed  on  the  hickory 
haft  so  that  the  knuckles  grew  white. 

A  squirrel  tumbled  down  an  overhanging  limb, 
and  scolded.  The  axeman  snapped  a  finger  at  him. 
"  Sho,  you  rascal !  "  he  cried.  Then  he  squared  his 
shoulders,  and  the  axe  went  aloft.  The  "  chug  " 
of  the  smitten  wood  sent  the  squirrel  chattering 
aloft.  For  half  an  hour  the  chips  spouted  from 
beneath  the  blade,  with  occasional  pauses  as  the 
builders  of  the  two  houses  called  to  each  other. 

Then  from  the  woods  came  a  faint  halloa.  The 
axeman  answered.  "  It's  David,"  he  said  aloud, 
and  rested.  A  minute  later  a  figure  broke  through 
the  underbrush,  and  halted.  "  Halloa,  Captain. 
She's  coming  on." 

"  Yes,  I've  made  a  fairly  big  hole  in  the  woods." 

David  Ford  came  over  and  seated  himself  on 
a  pile  of  logs.  He  took  off  his  hat  and  fanned  him- 
self. He  was  sturdy  in  the  legs  and  long  in  the 

14 


THE       CAPTAIN 

arms.  He  walked  firmly  and  a  little  slowly.  His 
head  set  strongly  on  wide  shoulders  and  with  thick 
brown  hair,  matched  well  his  vigorous  features  and 
wide-open  blue  eyes. 

"  I  reckon  you'll  be  ready  to  have  the  raising 
before  long,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  if  the  weather  holds,  I  ought  to  be  ready 
in  two  weeks." 

"  Now,  that's  good.  Captain,  this'll  be  your  own 
house,  if  there  ever  was  one.  You've  done  every- 
thing from  hauling  the  stones  to  splitting  shingles." 

The  Captain's  eyes  lightened.  "  I've  done  about 
all.  Except  some  of  the  hauling." 

"  Well,  you  won't  want  for  help  at  the  raising. 
I'm  coming,  though  that  won't  be  much  account, 
and  I  reckon  uncle  will  send  over  a  man  or  two. 
Yes,  there's  'Lias  Tobe.  Doctor  Shirley  told  me  he 
was  going  to  send  him.  And  'Lias's  about  the  best 
man  with  an  axe  hereabouts  —  unless  it's  you." 

"  I  don't  claim  to  beat  'Lias,"  answered  the  Cap- 
tain, smiling.  "  But  it  was  Lee  suggested  to  the 
doctor  to  send  him,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  though  I  shouldn't  wonder.  Lee's 
mighty  interested  in  your  house  building.  If  she's 
got  it  in  her  mind  to  have  'Lias  come,  he'll  be  on 
hand." 

"  She  generally  has  her  way,"  the  Captain  re- 
marked, quizzically.  "Have  you  been  up  there?" 

"  This  afternoon.     I  just  came  from  there.     I 

15 


THE       CAPTAIN 

didn't  reckon  to  come  here  at  all  to-day;  but  she 
was  out  riding,  and  I  thought  I  might  as  well  come 
around.  You  were  up  at  St.  Louis  yesterday,  weren't 
you?" 

"  Yes,  I  took  a  load  of  wood.  There's  a  good 
bit  of  talk  about  Mr.  Johnson's  freeing  his  slaves. 
It's  queer  you  don't  hear  more  about  it  here." 

"  Oh,  there's  lots  said  here,  too.  You  don't  go 
round  much,  that's  all." 

"  I've  been  too  busy,"  said  the  Captain.  "  When 
the  roof's  on  I'll  take  a  day  or  two  off,  and  try 
to  make  some  friends." 

"  That  won't  be  hard  for  you.  You  ought  to 
do  it.  What  are  they  saying  about  Mr.  Johnson  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  so  much  when  you  sift  it  out,"  the 
Captain  said,  slowly.  "  It's  the  same  things  they've 
said  a  good  many  times,  I  guess,  only  I  haven't 
been  here.  But  it's  a  pretty  tough  nut  to  crack, 
and  it  won't  be  cracked  with  talking." 

"  You  mean  Kansas  ?  " 

"  Kansas  is  only  one  little  bit  of  it.  It's  the  whole 
slave  question."  There  he  paused,  and  reflec- 
tively rubbed  the  blade  of  the  axe  with  a  palm. 
"  I  suppose  you've  been  thinking  it  over  yourself. 
How  does  it  strike  you  ?  "  He  sat  down  on  the 
log  he  had  been  cutting.  "  You  fellows  who'll 
be  voting  in  a  year  or  two  more'll  have  a  good  deal 
to  say  about  the  thing,"  he  added. 

David  had  taken  out  his  knife  and  was  sticking 

16 


The   Captain 


THE       CAPTAIN 

it  in  and  pulling  it  out  of  the  bark.  His  face  was 
sober. 

"  I  don't  know  just  what  I  do  think,"  he  said, 
deliberately.  "  You  see,  I  haven't  got  any  reason 
to  think  but  one  way.  Uncle  says  slavery  is  right 
because  it  is.  I  can't  just  make  out  what  that  means, 
only  he's  read  me  parts  of  the  Bible  that  back  it  up. 
He  knows  the  Bible,  if  any  one  knows,  doesn't  he?  " 

"  Yes,  he  can  tell  you  a  good  many  things  that 
are  in  the  Bible,  but  the  Bible  doesn't  settle  the 
question  exactly,  as  far  as  I've  read  it." 

"  Then,"  went  on  David,  "  father  always  had 
slaves,  and  he  did  about  right  by  everybody.  Most 
of  the  people  that  amount  to  anything  round  here 
have  slaves,  too." 

"  Yes,  but  some  of  them  aren't  prejudiced  on  chat 
account.  Now  there's  Doctor  Shirley.  He  reads 
a  good  deal.  He's  a  fair-minded  man,  from  all  I've 
heard." 

David's  face  clouded.  Then  he  laughed.  "  Yes," 
he  said.  "  But  the  doctor  wouldn't  undertake  to  talk 
about  that,  I  reckon.  It  would  be  too  much  like 
getting  into  an  argument.  It  always  goes  back 
to  books,  or  bugs,  or  butterflies,  anyway,  when  you 
start  out  with  him." 

"  Then  ask  Colonel  Marshall." 

"  I'd  hear  nothing  but  what  was  bad  about  the 
abolitionists,  and  how  the  country  was  going  to 
the  devil.  No,  that  wouldn't  do." 

17 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Well,  then,  ask  that  Miss  Pinckney  up  at  the 
Colonel's.  She  isn't  against  abolition." 

David  rocked  on  the  log.  "  I  should  say  not. 
I  wouldn't  dare  ask  her.  She'd  hand  me  a  Boston 
pamphlet,  and  give  me  advice  all  the  other  way. 
Captain,  I  guess  it  comes  back  to  you,"  and, 
seriously,  "  and  you  own  slaves,  too.  I  don't  see 
why  I  shouldn't  think  the  same  way." 

"  Well,  maybe  you  do."  The  Captain  was  watch- 
ing the  knitted,  sun-browned  face. 

"  I'd  like  to  get  it  all  put  before  me  square  and 
fair  by  some  one  who  didn't  try  to  make  one  side 
a  bit  stronger  than  the  other,"  said  David,  and 
halted.  Suddenly  he  looked  up.  "  Now,  why 
wouldn't  you  do  that?  " 

The  Captain  smiled.  "  I  couldn't,"  he  said.  "  I 
wouldn't  do.  I'm  a  slaveholder.  You  just  said 
so  yourself." 

"  But  you're  square." 

"  Am  I  ?  I  like  to  hear  you  say  it.  It's  just 
because  I  want  to  be  square  that  I  won't  try  to 
lay  the  question  out  for  you.  I  don't  know  but 
that  I've  got  my  mind  made  up.  They  don't  think 
much  of  abolitionists  in  the  army,  you  know." 

"  Then  I  guess  I've  got  to  wait  till  I  can  work 
it  out  for  myself.  If  I  go  to  college,  I  will.  I've 
got  the  money  to  go.  Father  left  it  to  me.  By  and 
by  I  reckon  uncle'll  say  I  can  go." 

"  He  ought  to.    But  you'll  have  to  decide  before 

18 


THE       CAPTAIN 

you  get  through  college.  There's  an  election  in 
two  years ;  there'll  be  a  good  deal  settled  then.  You 
want  to  have  your  say." 

David  made  no  reply.    His  brow  was  puzzled. 

The  Captain's  face  promised  mischief.  "  J  tell 
you  what  you  do,"  he  said.  "  Ask  Lee  to  explain 
it  to  you.  She's  impartial,  isn't  she?  " 

David  looked  up  suspiciously,  but  the  Captain  was 
inspecting  the  edge  of  his  axe.  "  Lee,"  he  began. 
Then  something  made  his  eyes  sparkle.  "  I  don't 
think  she'd  do." 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  swore  by  her  ?  " 

"  Lee  is  all  right,"  replied  David.  "  But  she  has 
views  about  any  one  who  tries  to  interfere  with  other 
people's  affairs.  And  that's  what  she  says  these 
abolitionists  are  trying  to  do.  She  writes  to  a 
cousin  of  hers  down  in  Mississippi,  —  Miss  Pem- 
berton.  She  read  me  one  of  the  letters  she  got 
from  her  the  other  day.  She  asked  me  if  it  wasn't 
splendid.  '  I  wish  Beatrix  was  here,'  she  said. 
'  Wouldn't  we  have  fun  with  the  people  who  aren't 
sure  about  abolition ! '  She  looked  right  at  me 
when  she  said  that,  Captain.  There  were  sparks 
in  her  eyes.  And  —  well,  I  don't  reckon  Lee  would 
tell  me  what  I  want." 

"  Maybe  not."  The  Captain's  lips  twitched. 
"  But  it  wouldn't  hurt  you  to  try." 

"  No-o.    But  I'd  just  as  lief  not  run  any  risks." 

"  David,"  said  the  Captain,  impressively,  "  do  you 

19 


THE       CAPTAIN 

know  what  I  begin  to  believe?  You're  afraid  of 
her,"  The  speaker's  face  was  composed  as  he  ex- 
plained, "  I  mean,  you  let  her  impose  on  you." 

David's  lips  settled.  "I  don't  do  that.  But  I 
like  her." 

"  And  she  knows  it,  and  you  don't  mind  if  she 
does?" 

"Not  a  bit.    Why  should  I?" 

"  No  reason  in  the  world.  But  she  does  about 
what  she  wants  with  you.  Now,  doesn't  she  ?  " 

With  David  it  was  all  suddenly  become  serious. 
Within  him  at  times  there  leaped  a  decision  which 
locked  his  jaw  and  made  him  quiet  but  very  de- 
termined. Then  those  who  faced  him  forgot  that 
he  still  lacked  more  than  a  year  of  his  majority. 
"  Well,"  he  said,  steadily,  "  I  wouldn't  let  Lee  make 
me  do  anything  if  I  wasn't  —  " 

He  halted.  The  Captain  turned  his  head  quickly. 
Somewhere  from  the  woods  had  come  a  cry.  It 
was  repeated  while  they  waited.  "  David !  Oh, 
David !  " 

The  Captain  looked  across.  A  red  spot  glowed 
through  the  tan  of  David's  cheek.  His  lips  had 
parted  involuntarily  as  if  to  answer. 

The  Captain's  gravity  broke  down.  "  It's  no 
use,"  he  said.  "  She  knew  what  you  were  saying. 
The  rebellion's  over.  You've  got  to  give  in." 

The  words  brought  David's  chin  up.    The  Captain 


20 


THE       CAPTAIN 

saw  it,  and  repented.  "  Oh,  go  on,"  he  advised. 
"  Answer  her,  anyway." 

Again  clear  and  from  closer  range  came  the  call, 
"  David !  David !  —  oh  —  David !  " 

David  did  not  speak,  and  thrust  his  knife  into 
the  bark  of  the  log.  The  Captain  interposed.  "  You 
ought  to  go.  It's  all  my  fault.  I  didn't  mean  what 
I  said  just  now."  There  was  an  ominous  silence, 
and  he  added,  "  If  you  don't,  you're  only  showing 
that  she  can  plague  you.  Go  on.  She  wants  you. 
And  I've  got  to  work." 

This  time  the  blue  eyes  set  themselves  in  a  stare 
of  steady  inquiry.  "  I  mean  it,"  repeated  the  Cap- 
tain. 

David  closed  the  knife  and  put  it  into  his  pocket. 
"  All  right,  then,  I'll  go."  He  called  good-by  to  the 
builders  of  the  bark  house  as  he  passed  them,  and 
plunged  into  the  woods.  But  doubt  laid  hold  of 
him  as  soon  as  he  was  among  the  trees,  and  he 
moved  forward  rapidly  until  fifty  yards  separated 
him  from  the  clearing  before  he  paused.  Then  he 
looked  about,  searching  every  open  spot  closely. 

It  was  very  quiet.  Only  the  musical  tinkle  of 
a  stream  dripping  over  a  mossy  fall  threaded  the 
stillness.  When  he  did  not  hear  the  "  chug  "  of 
the  axe,  it  flashed  upon  him  that  the  Captain  was 
listening.  That  made  him  angry.  Lee  probably 
was  somewhere  near  by,  laughing  at  him.  He 


21 


THE       CAPTAIN 

wished  he  had  remained  in  the  clearing.  But  he 
was  started,  and  must  go  on  out  of  shame. 

He  put  a  hundred  feet  more  between  himself  and 
the  clearing,  each  moment  hoping  to  come  upon  her. 
But  only  the  boles  of  the  trees  and  here  and  there 
a  clump  of  laurel  were  in  sight.  He  swung  a  dozen 
yards  to  one  side,  made  a  wide  half-circle,  and  beat 
up  every  bush  and  fallen  tree,  halting  abruptly  now 
and  then.  He  had  the  idea  of  surprising  her  should 
she  move  from  her  hiding-place.  Then,  when  he 
was  close  to  where  he  had  begun  his  hunt,  he  sat 
down  on  a  stump  and  listened. 

A  thrush  called  presently,  and,  as  if  it  were  a 
signal —  it  seemed  but  a  score  of  feet  behind  him  — 
sounded  again  the  mocking,  "  David !  Oh,  Da-vid !  " 
He  whirled  about  at  the  first  syllable,  and  dashed 
in  the  direction  whence  it  came,  head  up.  Suddenly 
his  foot  caught  in  a  root,  and  he  fell  headlong 
with  a  crash. 

With  the  sound  of  his  fall  it  was  as  if  some  one 
softly  whistled  near  at  hand.  From  the  direction 
of  the  clearing  came  an  echo  like  a  laugh. 

He  leaped  to  his  feet.  For  a  moment  he  stood 
with  clenched  hands.  Then  he  spoke  steadily,  "  All 
right,  Lee.  You  might  as  well  come  out." 

Then  was  a  brief  wait,  and  he  spoke  again,  no 
louder,  and  as  evenly  as  before.  "  Lee,  I'm  done 
hunting  for  you.  Where  are  you  ?  " 

This  time  there  was  an  answer.     "  Why,  here, 

22 


THE       CAPTAIN 

David !  "  He  turned  about.  In  the  shadow  of  a 
spruce,  twenty  feet  away,  he  saw  a  girl  of  sixteen, 
all  the  slimness  of  her  years  modelled  by  the 
simple  lines  of  her  dress,  her  brown  curls  caught 
behind  the  head  with  a  bow  of  bright  ribbon,  her 
face  raised  saucily,  her  gray  eyes  sparkling.  She 
dangled  a  broad  hat  by  its  strings.  "  I  came  out 
because  you  were  so  cross,"  she  said.  "  But  I've 
been  here,  oh,  so  long!  waiting  for  you  to  find 
me.  Have  you  been  very  far  ?  "  The  puzzle  of  a 
tiny  frown  was  set  between  her  eyes,  but  in  her 
parted  lips  was  the  beginning  of  a  smile,  long  famil- 
iar to  him. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  bluntly.  "  I  have  been.  I  passed 
that  very  spruce  twice.  You  weren't  there  all  the 
time." 

"  Who  said  I  was  ?  "  she  retorted.  The  frown  was 
gone.  He  had  yielded  to  her  temptation  to  argue, 
and  she  was  no  longer  afraid  of  him.  "  But  I 
haven't  been  far  away,"  she  went  on.  "  And  you 
made  such  a  beau-ti-ful  circle.  I  watched  you. 
And  that  stump  you  sat  down  on.  I  was  sitting 
on  it  a  minute  before.  I  got  up  to  make  room  for 
you.  I  would  have  grown  tired  waiting,  only  you 
looked  so  very  mad." 

"  I  wasn't  mad." 

Her  eyebrows  arched.  She  made  a  little  mouth. 
Then,  penitently,  "  Please  excuse  me!  And  it  was 
mean  of  the  Captain  to  listen.  And  just  when  you 

23 


THE       CAPTAIN 

tripped  on  that  root,  too.  It  was  very  sudden, 
wasn't  it?  Do  you  think  he  heard  the  —  the 
bump?" 

There  was  no  reply.  "  Do  you,  David  ?  "  she 
persisted.  "  It  was  a  pretty  big  bump." 

The  frown  insisted  on  showing  itself.  She  saw 
it,  and  leaned  forward.  "  Oh,  I  forgot.  Forgive 
me !  Did  it  hurt  much  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  But  if  you  are  done,  I  think 
I  might  as  well  go  on." 

"  I'm  not  keeping  you,"  she  answered.  "  Come 
on.  I  am  all  alone.  But  where  shall  we  go?  I 
came  back  home  from  my  ride,  and  they  told  me 
some  one  had  been  there.  So  I  came  here  —  to 
look  at  the  trees." 

David  looked  straight  into  her  face,  but  per- 
ceived no  guile.  It  was  all  demure  and  pleading. 
The  indignity  put  upon  him  was  forgotten.  "  Well, 
then,  I'll  go  with  you,"  he  said.  "  Where's  your 
horse?" 

"  Tied  to  a  rail  down  the  road.    Come  on." 

She  led  the  way,  facing  him,  now  and  then,  with 
dainty,  dancing  steps,  and  cautioning  him  the  while, 
"  Don't  forget  the  roots.  Be  very  careful.  Oh, 
there's  a  big  one  now  —  right  under  your  nose." 
But  she  did  not  go  toward  the  clearing,  and  pres- 
ently the  steady  "  chug "  of  the  axe,  which  had 
begun  again,  died  away  on  their  left.  They  came 
out  into  the  road.  The  brown  horse  cropped  the 

24 


THE       CAPTAIN 

wiry  grass  by  the  roadside,  and,  after  he  had  lifted 
his  head  and  inspected  them,  continued  his  meal  in 
peace. 

For  they  had  no  need  of  him  just  then.  Perched 
on  the  topmost  rail  of  the  old  fence,  she  cross-ques- 
tioned him  about  what  he  had  been  doing.  She 
challenged  him  to  guess  the  petals  on  a  late  flower. 
Once  she  puffed  a  feather  into  the  air,  and  defied 
him  to  bring  it  back  to  her  as  it  floated  in  the  breeze 
over  the  bushes  and  among  the  trees.  So  half 
an  hour  passed.  Suddenly  she  sprang  to  the  ground 
with  a  little  cry  of  alarm.  "  I  must  go  right  away. 
I  reckon  poor  Daddy  has  been  looking  everywhere 
for  me.  You  had  no  right  to  ask  me  to  stop  so 
long.  Help  me  on  Dick." 

He  lifted  her  into  the  saddle,  and  together  they 
started  down  the  road,  Dick  as  if  his  famous  speed 
was  no  more  than  a  story  of  his  younger  days. 
David  had  a  hand  on  the  brown  horse's  side,  and 
kept  pace,  while  the  rider  talked  and  he  listened. 

They  were  opposite  the  clearing  when  the  Cap- 
tain's figure  loomed  through  the  trees,  and,  a  moment 
later,  came  into  the  road. 

In  the  hollow  of  one  arm  lay  the  axe,  on  a  shoul- 
der rode  the  baby;  the  other  builder,  of  the  bark 
house,  trudged  by  his  side.  The  Captain's  slouch- 
hat  was  tilted  up  in  front,  and  a  level  shaft  of  sun- 
light striking  beneath  the  trees  deepened  the  strong 
lines  of  his  bearded  face. 

25 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  So  you  found  her,  David,"  he  said.  "  I  thought 
you  would.  It's  the  right  way.  When  you  make 
up  your  mind  to  do  anything,  do  it,  if  it  takes 
for  ever.  Good-night."  , 

He  started  up  the  road.  They  watched  him  until, 
at  the  bend  of  the  road  above,  the  sun  sent  back 
a  last  winking  flash  from  the  axe-blade.  Then  Lee 
spoke.  "  He  said,  '  Do  it,  if  it  takes  for  ever.'  I 
believe  that's  the  way  he  does." 

"I'm  sure  of  it,"  returned  David.  "He's  out 
of  the  army,  but  when  anything's  to  be  done,  and 
he's  about,  he's  likely  to  be  the  Captain." 


26 


II 

MR.  MAYHEW 
AND  SOME  OTHERS 

HALF  a  mile  from  the  clearing-  the  road  bent 
toward  the  hill,  back  of  which  Doctor  Shir- 
ley's house  stood.  There,  with  a  "good 
night,"  David  left  Lee,  and  struck  across  fields. 
On  the  other  side  of  a  swell  of  rolling  land  he  skirted 
the  stretch  of  woods  which  lined  the  roundabout 
course  of  Gravois  Creek,  in  this  dry  weather  a  mere 
thread  of  water,  and  crossed  its  abrupt  clay  banks 
on  a  felled  tree.  A  minute  later  he  unlatched  the 
gate  at  the  back  of  his  home.  It  was  a  small  farm, 
but  well  kept.  Behind  the  old  house  with  its  gallery 
was  the  double  row  of  whitewashed  cabins  of  the 
quarter.  Smoke  everywhere  filtered  from  the  chim- 
neys of  these.  On  the  bench  at  the  door  of  one  a 
bent  darkey,  with  snowy  poll,  cuddled  the  bowl  of 
his  cob  pipe  in  both  palms,  and  talked  to  himself. 
He  raised  his  withered  face  and  nodded  as  he  re- 
turned David's  greeting,  then  dropped  his  head  and 
resumed  his  conversation. 

From  another  cabin  came  the  crash  of  falling  tin- 

27 


THE       CAPTAIN 

ware  and  a  burst  of  infant  wailing-.  But  this  was 
quickly  hushed,  and,  in  the  moment  of  quiet  that 
followed,  a  very  different  sound  fell  on  David's 
ears.  From  behind  a  small  outbuilding,  fifty  feet 
away,  came  a  soft  voice.  He  could  distinguish  every 
word,  and  in  his  mind's  eye  saw  clearly  the  figure 
of  the  slave  standing  there  facing  his  uncle  and 
hearing  why  it  would  be  wisdom  on  his  part  not 
to  repeat  a  certain  fault. 

"  A  kind  master,  a  cool  master,  but  a  master 
always  to  your  niggers,"  was  a  rule  of  conduct 
Felix  Mayhew  had  often  pronounced.  "  I  never  use 
the  whip,"  he  was  wont  to  add,  with  reproach  in  his 
tones  for  those  who  might.  David  as  often  recalled 
the  comment  of  'Lias  Tobe,  "  No,  Mr.  Mayhew  don't 
use  th'  whip,  but  if  I  was  his  nigger  I'd  pray  he 
would,  if  it  would  take  th'  place  of  his  tongue !  " 
'Lias  perhaps  was  a  skeptic  as  to  moral  suasion.  It 
is  certain  he  was  without  reverence  at  times.  When 
David  loyally  demanded  an  explanation  of  this  re- 
mark he  got  no  more  than  a  significant  shake  of  the 
long  head  with  its  humourous  face  and  grizzled 
locks. 

David  himself  was  not  sure  of  his  own  feelings. 
Yet  at  times,  overhearing  his  uncle's  softly  spoken 
correction  of  a  slave,  he  suddenly  found  his  fingers 
curling.  Perhaps  it  was  to  forestall  such  temptation 
that  he  walked  quickly  on  and  entered  the  living- 
room  of  the  house. 

28 


THE       CAPTAIN 

The  table  was  laid  for  supper,  but  the  room  was 
empty  except  for  a  cat  which  sat  on  the  window-sill 
and  blinked  at  the  slow  march  of  a  line  of  chickens 
along  the  lane.  David  walked  to  the  window,  laid 
a  hand  on  the  cat's  back,  and  stood  there  looking 
over  the  fields. 

Beyond  the  road  hedge  they  rolled  away,  a  maze 
of  stubble,  to  the  upland  ridges  whose  uneven  tree- 
tops  cut  a  purple  comb  against  the  red  sky  of  the 
west.  In  one  place  a  flood  of  flame  poured  between 
the  shoulders  of  a  lower  hill,  and  set  the  end  of  the 
road  on  fire.  To  the  south,  the  shadows  had  gath- 
ered in  a  ravine.  Along  the  bottom  a  trail  of  mist 
marked  the  winding  course  of  the  creek.  It  was 
all  familiar  to  him,  and  yielded  a  haunting  sweet- 
ness which  he  drank  in  through  every  sense.  It  was 
absolutely  still,  and  he  had  grown  conscious  of  the 
silence,  when  under  his  fingers  he  felt  the  muscles 
of  the  cat  grow  rigid  as  the  animal  crouched.  Then 
it  sprang  far  out  the  window.  At  the  same  moment 
a  soft  voice  behind  him  said,  "  David,  good  even- 
ing." 

Every  nerve  in  David's  body  had  thrilled  to 
alarm.  There  was  an  instant's  pause  before  he  could 
command  the  quiet  "  Good  evening,  Uncle,"  with 
which  he  turned.  It  was  not  a  new  experience. 
Again  and  again  he  had  fought  to  master  the  mo- 
mentary panic  which  he  knew  well  had  been  the 
purpose  of  that  stealthy  approach.  It  was  one  of 

29 

4 


THE       CAPTAIN 

his  uncle's  idiosyncrasies  to  enter  a  room  silently. 
David  knew  that  behind  him  Mr.  Mayhew's  lips 
had  twitched  with  a  spasm  of  vexation  when  he 
got  that  quiet  answer. 

His  own  face,  however,  was  not  more  composed 
than  that  into  which  he  now  looked.  Once  again  he 
was  reminded  of  a  coloured  print  in  a  book  he  had 
turned  the  pages  of  many  times  when  his  father 
was  alive,  ten  years  ago.  It  was  the  picture  of  some 
saint.  In  his  uncle's  face  he  saw  the  same  pointed 
chin  and  thin  lips,  the  same  long  nose  with  sensitive 
nostrils,  the  pale  skin,  high  cheek-bones,  and  narrow 
brow  framed  in  dark  locks  which  fell  almost  to  the 
collar  and  hid  the  tips  of  the  ears.  The  resemblance 
ceased  only  at  the  eyes.  Those  of  his  uncle  were 
hazel,  changing  colour,  the  pupils  expanding  to  every 
shadow,  or  pulling  down  the  lids  as  if  offended  by  a 
glare.  Once  he  had  stared  at  them  until  his  uncle 
spoke.  "  Yes,  they  hurt  me.  It  is  the  sunlight,  per- 
haps. But  they  are  all  I  have,  David.  I  must  not 
complain."  There  was  something  behind  the  rebuke 
which  never  allowed  it  to  be  forgotten. 

Indeed  Felix  Mayhew  lacked  much  that  other 
men  enjoyed.  As  he  limped  noiselessly  across  the 
room  on  his  padded  crutch,  and  swung  himself  into 
the  big  chair  which  David  drew  into  place  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  his  shrivelled  left  leg  and  frail 
body  were  pitifully  evident.  He  laid  one  hand  on 
the  table,  and  the  tapering  nails  of  the  long  fingers, 

30 


THE       CAPTAIN 

which  usually  he  curled  so  that  they  were  concealed 
by  the  palms,  clicked  on  the  surface. 

David  at  the  signal  bowed  his  head,  while  his 
uncle  repeated  the  grace  without  which  no  meal  in 
the  house  was  begun.  Then  he  began  eating  with 
healthy  zest. 

Mr.  Mayhew  ate  more  leisurely.  He  picked 
at  what  lay  before  him  with  mincing  daintiness,  his 
head  slightly  inclined.  It  was  as  if  he  had  no  appe- 
tite. But  his  eyes  never  left  his  plate,  and  once  he 
selected  a  morsel  his  head  came  lower,  and  his  teeth 
sank  into  the  food  and  tore  it  apart  with  little  side- 
ways jerks  of  the  jaw.  It  was  part  of  a  nervous 
affliction.  David  knew  this,  yet  instinctively  avoided 
the  sight.  But  presently  the  silence  drove  him  to 
speak,  and  he  asked,  "  Were  you  out  driving  this 
afternoon  ?  " 

"  No,"  Mr.  Mayhew  replied,  without  raising  his 
eyes.  "  I  have  been  around  the  house  since  you 
left  for  Doctor  Shirley's.  I  was  in  the  house  most 
of  the  time." 

"  Hasn't  any  one  been  here?  " 

"  No  one." 

There  was  a  pause,  then  his  uncle  asked, 
"  Well,  what  did  the  Captain  have  to  say?  " 

David's  answer  was  begun  before  he  realised  that 
he  had  said  nothing  of  seeing  the  Captain.  "  Noth- 
ing much,  except  that  in  two  weeks  —  " 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  He  would  be  ready  for  the  raising  of  his 
house  ?  "  his  uncle  finished  in  an  even  voice. 

David  was  looking  across  the  table  at  him.  He 
had  a  sensation  which  was  not  fear,  but  akin  to 
it.  His  uncle's  prescience  was  uncanny.  Familiar- 
ity with  it  rendered  it  no  less  startling. 

The  pale  face  opposite  remained  bent  over  the 
plate.  With  a  quick  gulp  David  mastered  the  im- 
pulse to  exclaim.  "  Yes,"  he  assented,  "  the  raising. 
Will  you  send  him  any  help?  " 

"  I  shall  send  two  men.     He  needs  help." 

There  was  an  inference  in  the  statement  that 
stirred  David's  loyalty.  "  He  is  asking  no  favours," 
he  said.  "  He  has  done  all  the  work  on  the  house 
himself  so  far." 

''  Yes,  so  I  have  heard.  It  is  not  a  favour  I  am 
doing,  but  a  duty.  I  hope  he  will  succeed." 

"  Why  shouldn't  he  succeed  ?  He  has  as  good 
a  chance  as  any  one.  He's  honest  and  hard  working. 
He  knows  what  he's  about." 

"  Of  course.  Perhaps  he  will  succeed.  And  he 
has  one  advantage  which  is  very  valuable.  He 
knows  his  weaknesses." 

The  bearing  of  this  was  not  clear.  And  David, 
as  he  was  something  of  a  ruminant  in  mental  habit, 
did  not  ask  for  an  explanation.  He  had  an  idea 
it  would  not  satisfy  him  if  it  was  given.  The  meal 
was  near  its  close  before  his  uncle  spoke  again. 

"Does  the  Captain  ever  talk  of  —  slavery?" 

32 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Not  often,  but  he  did  speak  of  it  to-day." 

"  What  does  he  think  ?  He  has  been  a  good  deal 
among  men ;  he  should  have  something  to  say." 

"  He  doesn't  know  what  he  thinks,"  answered 
David,  bluntly. 

Mr.  Mayhew  raised  his  head  and  his  eyebrows 
with  it.  "  That  is  rather  strange.  He  is  a  man 
of  opinions.  With  Kansas  at  our  very  door,  and  he 
an  army  man  so  lately,  and  the  Washington  govern- 
ment so  involved.  —  It  is  queer  —  now  that  he  is 
free  to  speak." 

If  David  had  been  less  concerned  about  what 
seemed  a  covert  attack  on  the  Captain,  he  would 
have  wondered  at  the  suddenness  with  which  his 
uncle  swung  into  the  remark,  "But  perhaps,  after 
all,  it  is  not  so  strange.  He  is  wise  who  does  not 
commit  himself.  There  are  a  good  many  things 
going  on  which  it  is  just  as  well  not  to  talk  about. 
The  time  may  come  for  talking  and  —  doing  - 
later.  I  think  I  wouldn't  try  to  decide  quickly  about 
this  abolition  question  if  I  were  you." 

It  did  not  seem  to  David  that  a  reply  was  called 
for. 

"You  heard  what  I  said?"  repeated  his  uncle. 

"  Yes,  I  heard.  But  that  is  one  of  the  very  things 
I  want  to  understand." 

Mr.  Mayhew's  glance  travelled  over  the  face  op- 
posite him  so  swiftly  that  it  seemed  no  more  than 
a  chance  look,  but  in  the  moment  he  saw  enough. 

33 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Understand  it,  you  said?  That  is  proper  enough 
if  you  can  understand.  But  don't  try  to  make  others 
understand  what  you  haven't  had  the  chance  yet  to 
form  a  safe  opinion  on.  There  is  a  lot  of  foolish 
talk." 

When  supper  was  finished,  Mr.  Mayhew  took  the 
arm  offered  and  was  helped  to  the  ehair  which  stood 
for  him  by  the  west  window,  with  a  lamp  on  a  table 
near  by.  This  was  a  fiction  which  no  amount  of 
independent  activity  on  his  part  was  allowed  to 
discredit.  It  was  followed,  as  it  was  every  night, 
by  the  advice  in  a  voice  of  patient  resignation, 
"  Don't  forget  to  give  thanks  for  your  own  strong 
legs,  David,"  to  which  there  was  no  response. 
Something  in  the  monotony  of  the  utterance  made 
it  impossible.  It  was  not  a  lack  of  reverence.  A 
simple  faith  to  which  he  never  alluded  was  deep  in 
David's  heart.  He  carried  the  Bible  to  his  uncle's 
chair  by  the  window,  as  he  always  did  at  this  hour, 
and  laid  it  on  the  crippled  knees.  Mr.  Mayhew  sat 
with  his  chin  in  one  hand,  gazing  out  the  window. 

David  went  toward  the  door.  "  I  am  going  up 
to  the  store  for  a  while.  I  will  be  home  early." 

His  uncle  did  not  look  around.  If  the  lamp  had 
been  turned  higher,  there  might  have  been  seen  an 
expression  of  swift  calculation  in  the  contracted  eyes. 
But  the  answer  came  in  a  quiet  voice,  "  Very  well, 
good  night." 

As  the  night  breeze  brushed   David's   face,   he 

34 


THE       CAPTAIN 

drew  in  a  long  breath  and  threw  back  his  shoulders. 
In  his  uncle's  presence  he  had  an  odd  feeling  of 
separation  from  his  self.  It  seemed  as  if  the  beatings 
of  his  heart  were  being  counted,  that  a  single  irreg- 
ularity would  be  the  signal  for  an  inquiring  glance 
from  the  eyes  which  never  seemed  to  rest  on  him, 
yet  of  which  he  was  always  conscious.  He  walked 
to  the  fence,  and  stood  leaning  against  the  gate- 
post. Here  he  felt  free.  Through  the  shivering 
leaves  of  an  elm  overhead,  he  marked  a  single  bright 
star,  and  drew  in  draughts  of  the  clear  night  air. 

By  and  by  an  approaching  step  brought  his  eyes 
to  the  road,  and  out  of  the  darkness  grew  a  tall, 
angular  figure.  "  Hello,  'Lias,"  he  called.  "  Going 
to  the  store?" 

The  man  stopped.  "  Yes.  Come  along.  You'll 
get  sunburnt  there." 

David  unlatched  the  gate  and  went  out.  "  I  was 
waiting  for  you,"  he  said.  At  the  store  in  the 
evening,  there  was  usually  a  little  gathering,  —  the 
ne'er-do-weel  of  the  settlement,  Tom  White,  always 
ready  for  an  argument  and  generally  wrong,  but 
with  a  pliant  tongue;  a  farmer  or  two  with  an  idle 
hour  to  spend  in  story-telling  or  gossip.  It  was 
the  clearing-house  for  news  of  the  neighbourhood. 
With  a  school  training  better  than  most  of  them, 
and  a  mind  which  needed  only  the  opportunity  of 
occasion  to  wake  to  its  power,  David  was  perhaps 
better  equipped  than  were  most  of  them  to  grapple 

35 


THE       CAPTAIN 

with  the  questions  which  they  settled  offhand.  But 
many  things  besides  the  abolition  question  were  as 
yet  formless  to  him.  He  caught  at  loose  ends  and 
unravelled  them  to  find  they  were  nothing  more. 
For  the  most  part  he  was  a  silent  member  of  the 
circle,  doing  his  own  thinking,  toiling  behind  the 
march  of  debate,  examining  but  seldom  challenging 
aloud  the  truth  or  wisdom  of  statements. 

It  may  have  been  well  for  him  that,  he  did  spin 
his  opinions  slowly.  The  wisest  men  in  the  country, 
in  that  autumn  of  1854,  were  puzzling  their  wits 
and  picking  their  words  in  the  effort  to  find  a  way 
out  of  the  maze  into  which  the  blindness  of  many, 
the  passion  of  a  few,  and  the  force  of  that  great 
indefinite  factor,  circumstance,  had  led  them.  Every 
day  they  were  entangling  themselves  more  hope- 
lessly. 

Across  an  imaginary  line  running  midway  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  they  watched  one  another 
with  jealous  eyes,  and  between  them  in  a  parcel  of 
land,  a  few  years  before  unnamed,  they  saw  the 
murders  of  the  Great  Tragedy  being  rehearsed.  The 
mighty  figure  of  a  Douglas,  the  greatest  orator  of 
them  all,  trod  'the  soil  of  a  free  State,  and  cried  his 
salvation  into  many  ears,  and  yet  was  but  a  blind 
leader  of  the  blind.  Their  chief  magistrate,  urbane, 
punctilious,  preaching  forbearance  before  all  else, 
was  willing  to  accept  the  tangle  if  only  it  could  be 
kept  from  growing  worse.  One,  who  a  few  years 

36 


THE       CAPTAIN 

later  was  to  call  himself  President  of  some  millions 
of  these  men,  each  day  drove  them  by  his  counsel 
to  where  escape  was  impossible.  In  a  State  of  the 
Middle  West,  a  tall  and  toil-worn  man,  as  yet  al- 
most unknown  except  to  those  who  had  heard  the 
homely  wisdom  with  which  his  homely  Christian 
name  was  coupled,  tilted  his  long  legs  in  the  office 
of  a  grimy  little  back  room,  and  threshed  out  for 
himself  the  reasons  for  the  decision  upon  which  he 
was  to  stake  his  chances  against  the  mightiest  orator 
of  the  day,  and  stake,  too,  the  fortunes  of  his  coun- 
try and  a  thousand  thousand  lives. 

In  David's  neighbourhood  they  knew  of  what  was 
at  their  doors,  and  guessed  at  the  rest.  They  argued 
it  out  to  suit  their  several  plans,  and  in  their  several 
ways.  Kansas  —  the  battle-ground  —  was  but  a  few 
miles  west.  There  deeds  were  doing  in  which  more 
than  one  Missourian  had  his  part.  The  salt  taste 
of  blood  had  awakened  them  to  the  realities  of  a 
principle  which,  again  and  again,  had  seemed  likely 
never  to  be  more  than  a  principle.  But  the  leaven  of 
abolition  would  not  be  suppressed.  From  the  high- 
est to  the  lowest  they  felt  its  power,  and  were  in- 
flamed to  passion  or  inspired  to  reason.  They  met 
to  strive  with  one  another,  to  deride,  condemn, 
threaten,  or  give  warning  of  what  would  happen 
—  some  day. 

On  such  a  discussion  David  and  his  companion 
came.  A  dozen  men  were  seated  on  the  porch  of 

37 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  store  on  convenient  boxes  and  broken  chairs. 
Against  the  sides  of  an  upturned  barrel  Tom  White 
himself  kicked  his  heels,  while  he  turned  in  his 
cheek  a  piece  of  tobacco,  and  delivered  himself  of 
opinions. 

"  I  said  it,"  he  declared,  as  David  seated  himself 
with  his  back  against  a  post;  "most  of  them  ab- 
olitionists is  a  pack  of  hypocrites.  They  don't  want 
the  niggers  themselves,  and  they're  trying  to  keep 
the  rest  of  us  from  having  them.  All  the  while 
they're  whining  that  '  it  ain't  right.'  What  ain't 
right?  That  this  is  a  free  country,  and  each  man 
should  have  his  say?  That  a  man  shouldn't  have 
what  he's  bought  and  paid  for?  Ain't  that  right? 
If  it  ain't,  I  reckon  some  of  us  is  about  ready  to 
change  our  minds  about  these  United  States.  If  a 
man  ain't  got  the  right  to  hold  niggers  in  the  new 
part  of  the  country,  then  he  ain't  got  the  right  to 
do  it  in  the  old  —  maybe.  And  that  means  —  it 
means  get  out,  and  start  fresh." 

"  That's  darn  fool  talk,"  remarked  Jim  Hilton. 
Hilton  was  a  Kentuckian,  and  a  follower  of  Mr. 
Pierce.  "  You  know  as  well  as  I  do,"  he  added, 
"  that  when  it  comes  to  a  vote,  there  won't  be  any 
getting  out." 

"  You  wait  and  see,"  returned  White.  "  There's 
a  pile  more  people  thinking  that  way  already  than 
you  reckon.  There'll  be  more  yet.  This  abolition 
business  is  getting  too  strong  for  a  good  many  — 

38 


THE       CAPTAIN 

right  here  in  our  own  country.  Look  what  was  said 
when  Johnson  turned  his  niggers  loose.  And  you 
only  got  to  go  over  to  the  Barracks  to  hear  what  the 
army  people  think  about  it." 

"  Whatever  you  hear  about  the  army  people  is 
hearsay,  anyhow.  And,  besides,  they  don't  all  think 
one  way,  I  reckon.  There's  the  Captain.  If  what 
he  does,  goes  for  anything,  he  ain't  any  too  red-hot 
against  abolition." 

White  laughed  scornfully.  "  He  ain't  too  red- 
hot  about  anything,  when  it  comes  to  that.  If  he 
has  any  ideas,  he  keeps  'em  bottled  up  so  no  one'll 
ever  find  'em  out." 

It  was  well  known  that  White  had  been  quietly 
but  effectively  suppressed  by  the  Captain  soon  after 
the  latter  came  into  the  settlement,  and  that  as  a 
result  he  could  find  nothing  bad  enough  to  say  about 
him.  And,  though  more  than  one  of  those  present 
suspected  that  he  would  have  a  like  experience  if 
he  tried  to  force  an  acquaintance  with  the  sober  man 
in  the  old  army  clothes,  it  was  good  to  laugh  at 
the  single  man  who  had  tried  this  and  found  out 
his  mistake. 

"  Oh,  come  now,  that  ain't  fair,"  rejoined  Hilton. 
"  The  Captain  don't  tell  all  he  knows,  but  I  reckon 
he  does  a  pile  of  thinking.  As  for  work,  look  at 
the  way  he  tackled  that  job  of  house-building. 
How's  it  getting  on,  anyway?  David,  where  are 
you  ?  You've  been  up  there  lately." 

39 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  It's  almost  done,"  said  David.  "  He  told  me 
to-day  he  thought  he'd  be  ready  for  the  raising  in 
about  two  weeks." 

"  Is  that  so?    Now,  he  must  have  been  working." 

"  I  wonder  how  he's  going  to  get  on  at  farming," 
remarked  Abe  Happel,  the  storekeeper. 

"  I  reckon  he  won't  get  on  at  all,"  scoffed  White. 
"A  farmer  boy,  was  he?  I'd  like  to  see  the  farm 
he  runs.  He  tried  his  hand  at  it  out  at  Fort  Van- 
couver, I'm  told.  Thought  he  knew  it  all.  So  he 
started  in  to  raise  potatoes.  Somebody  says  he  got 
a  slapping  big  lot  of  them.  Well,  if  he  did,  nobody 
wanted  'em.  There  was  more  thereabouts  than  they 
could  eat.  He  lost  every  cent  he  put  into  'em.  What 
kind  of  farming  is  that?  And  he  ain't  much  better 
at  raising  cattle  and  hogs,  if  the  stories  is  right. 
He  tried  it  out  on  the  coast,  and  lost  about  every- 
thing in  it  he  didn't  lose  raising  potatoes." 

"  Well,  there's  one  thing  he  didn't  lose  out  there," 
put  in  'Lias  Tobe.  It  was  his  first  word. 

"What's  that?    His  head?" 

"  No,  his  grit.  He'll  never  give  up.  He  didn't 
lose  his  honesty,  either.  There  ain't  any  one  ever 
knew  the  Captain  but  will  tell  you  that.  He's  too 
honest  for  himself  sometimes.  Did  you  ever  hear 
about  his  buying  a  horse?  I  heard  it  when  I  was 
in  his  company  down  in  Mexico." 

"  Some  fool  trick,  I  suppose,"  sneered  White. 

"  Maybe  you'd  call  it  that.     Anyway,  it'll  never 

40 


THE       CAPTAIN 

happen  to  you.  It  was  when  he  was  about  twelve 
years  old.  His  father  sent  him  to  buy  a  mare  from 
a  neighbour.  He  told  the  boy  to  offer  forty  dollars 
for  the  horse.  If  he  couldn't  get  it  for  that,  to  offer 
forty-five.  He  was  to  pay  fifty  if  he  had  to.  The 
neighbour  didn't  give  the  Captain  a  chance  to  make 
a  bid.  '  How  much  did  your  father  tell  you  to  pay,' 
he  asked.  The  Captain  was  thinking  of  what  he 
had  been  told,  and  answered  right  off  the  handle, 
'  Why,  he  said  to  offer  you  forty  dollars.  If  you 
wouldn't  take  that,  to  give  you  forty-five  or  fifty.' ' 
'Lias  paused.  "  The  Captain  brought  the  mare  back 
all  right,"  he  finished.  "  Her  price  was  fifty  dollars." 

A  roar  went  up  from  the  porch. 

"  I  reckon  he  wouldn't  do  any  better  than  that 
right  now,"  White  remarked.  "  He  knows  about 
as  much  about  horses  as  he  dojes  of  cattle  or  hogs." 

There  was  a  twinkle  in  'Lias's-  eye.  He  hitched 
himself  around.  "  Now,  is  that  your  idea?  Well, 
look  here!  I'll  bet  there  ain't  a  man  in  the  country 
knows  as  much  about  horses  or  can  get  as  much  out 
of  one  fairly  as  the  Captain.  I'm  willing  to  lay  a 
bet  on  it  with  you,  right  now." 

White  blustered,  "  Why,  he  ain't  got  a  horse  to 
his  name,  he  ain't  ever  driven  one  since  he  came, 
unless  it  was  somebody  else's.  What's  he  ever  done 
with  horses  ?  " 

"  He's  done  about  everything  with  'em.  Begin- 
ning when  he  was  a  boy  and  rode  a  trick  pony  at 

4* 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  circus  that  had  thrown  off  everybody  that  tried 
him,  he's  been  riding  and  driving  horses  all  his  life. 
In  the  army  they  used  to  say  that  there  wasn't  a  rider 
like  him.  I  know  what  he  did  at  Monterey  in  '46, 
when  he  hung  over  the  side  of  his  horse  on  a  dead 
run  with  every  Mexican  in  range  pulling  trigger  on 
him  to  stop  him  from  bringing  up  reinforcements. 
And  I  heard  one  of  the  officers  up  at  the  Barracks  say 
that,  not  more  than  a  year  ago,  he  saw  him  leap 
a  battery  of  four  guns  without  touching  'em.  At 
West  Point  it  was  the  talk  that  there  wasn't  one 
of  his  squad  could  come  near  him  on  horseback. 
When  he  was  stationed  at  Detroit  he  had  a  black 
mare  that  he  could  put  over  a  mile  in  two-fifty-five, 
and  with  two  men  behind  her,  too.  I  reckon  the 
Captain  knows  a  few  things  about  horses." 

"  It's  more  than  he  knows  about  niggers,  anyway," 
White  persisted.  "  I  came  by  him  in  the  field  a 
month  or  so  back.  He  was  working  with  the  nig- 
gers, and  they  were  giving  him  the  heavy  end  of  the 
job.  And  if  he  wasn't  taking  it,  too!  I  stood  and 
watched  a  bit.  Then  I  yelled  over  to  him  if  he 
didn't  reckon  they  was  getting  the  best  of  him.  I'll 
be  damned  if  he  didn't  shout  back  that  maybe  they 
was,  but  it  wasn't  worth  fighting  about." 

"  Worth  fighting  about !  "  The  conception  was 
too  much  for  comment.  White's  sallow  face  con- 
torted. He  plucked  disgustedly  at  the  tuft  of  black 


THE       CAPTAIN 

hair  beneath  his  chin,  then  spat  far  out  beyond  the 
porch. 

"  He  is  a  mite  too  good-natured  with  the  niggers," 
acknowledged  Abe  Happel.  "  And  they  know  it." 

"Well,  he's  got  a  right  to  be,  ain't  he?"  said 
'Lias.  "  They  were  bought  and  paid  for,  weren't 
they?  If  he  ain't  got  that  right,  why,  I  reckon 
'  some  of  us  is  about  ready  to  change  our  minds 
about  these  United  States.' ' 

A  chorus  of  yells  and  the  stamping  of  feet  informed 
White  that  he  was  repaid  in  his  own  coin.  For  the 
moment  he  had  no  reply  ready.  He  leaned  forward. 
"  Well,  it  don't  make  much  difference  what  he  does," 
he  affirmed.  "  He  ain't  any  account.  He  was  dis- 
charged from  the  army  because  he  couldn't  keep 
away  from  the  bottle.  I  guess  everybody  knows  it." 

There  was  a  pause.  They  had  heard  the  story; 
most  of  them  believed  there  was  truth  in  it.  David 
had  heard  it,  too.  But  to  him  that  mattered  not. 
White's  words  sank  slowly  into  his  mind.  It  was 
several  seconds  before  he  realised  their  meaning. 
Then  he  got  to  his  feet,  and  he  said,  steadily, 
"That's  a  He!" 

"  A  what  ?  Did  you  call  me  a  liar  ?  You  damned 
young  whelp!"  White  slipped  from  the  barrel. 
"Apologise,  you  whipper-snapper!  Apologise,  or 
I'll  give  you  a  licking  that  you'll  never  forget !  " 

"  It's  what  I  mean,"  David  repeated.     "  If  you 


43 


THE       CAPTAIN 

say  the  Captain  was  discharged  from  the  army  for 
being  drunk,  you  are  lying." 

White  made  an  angry  movement  forward,  his  fist 
clenched.  Abe  Happel  reached  out  a  hand,  and 
'Lias  leaped  to  his  feet  to  interfere.  But  none  of 
them  was  quick  enough.  A  figure  had  walked  quietly 
up  on  the  far  end  of  the  porch. 

It  was  the  Captain.  He  had  not  heard  White's 
words  distinctly;  he  only  saw  the  uplifted  arm, 
and  David  standing  straight  and  stiff  on  the  step 
of  the  porch,  the  light  of  the  lamp  within  the  store 
falling  through  the  open  door  upon  his  face,  which 
was  pale  but  unafraid. 

"  What's  the  matter  ? "  he  asked,  quietly. 
"Something  gone  wrong?"  Perhaps  he  was 
smiling. 

For  two  seconds  surprise  sealed  White's  lips.  The 
rest  were  leaning  forward.  They  were  curiously 
interested  to  see  what  would  happen.  White  was 
a  bully,  and  he  perceived  what  he  thought  was  a 
great  chance. 

"  Nothing  much,  Captain,"  he  said,  changing  his 
tone  to  one  of  smooth  tolerance.  "  We  were  just 
having  a  little  argument  —  about  you  army  fellows. 
I  said  you  got  a  good  bit  of  credit  you  didn't  earn  — 
you  always  had  to  be  bigger  than  the  other  fellow  to 
whip  him.  Now,  let's  suppose  you  wanted  to  go 
into  the  store  here." 


44 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"That's  where  I'm  going,"  said  the  Captain, 
gravely. 

White  grinned.  "  So  ?  Well,  I'm  right  between 
you  and  the  door.  Now,  how  are  you  going  to  get 
there?" 

"  I'll  go  around."  The  Captain  moved  to  one 
side. 

White  immediately  made  a  step,  blocking  the  way. 
"  But  how  about  it  now  ?  " 

"  Well,  now"  said  the  Captain,  and  all  at  once 
his  voice  hardened  and  his  bearded  jaw  stuck  out, 
"  I'll  have  to  clear  the  road."  Both  his  arms  shot 
out.  White  was  seized  by  the  collar  and  jerked 
forward  so  suddenly  that  it  looked  as  if  his  legs 
had  been  struck  from  under  him.  He  came  down 
upon  the  porch  with  a  crash,  his  collar  still  twisted 
in  the  other's  grip  so  that  he  choked. 

"Is  that  plain?"  asked  the  Captain.  "If  it's 
not  —  I  am  going  into  the  store.  When  I  come 
out !  "  He  loosened  his  hold,  and  straightened  up, 
then  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  through  the  door. 


45 


Ill 

WAY 

OF   A   MAID 

MISS  SHIRLEY  had  parted  from  David  with 
ideas  stirring  in  her  mind  of  which  her 
serene  countenance  as  she  said  good-bye 
was  no  reflection.  Chief  of  these  was  the  discovery 
that  preservation  of  her  privileges  and  due  respect 
from  him  required  prompt  discipline.  She  had 
yielded  before  this  to  his  masterful  coolness,  but, 
for  the  first  time,  she  was  sufficiently  indignant  with 
herself  to  contemplate  reprisal.  She  decided  that  she 
had  been  conveying  the  honour  of  her  friendship 
with  entirely  too  free  a  hand.  It  was  not  a  question 
of  her  liking  for  him;  it  was  a  duty  she  owed  to 
herself.  He  must  learn  that  his  company  was  a 
thing  of  which  she  was  properly  careless. 

In  this  frame  of  mind  she  mounted  Dick  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  and  rode  over  to  Kitty  Marshall's. 
It  was  an  hour  when  all  precedent  said  she  should  be 
stationed  on  the  porch  in  a  shady  corner  with  her 
sewing.  So  her  approach  to  the  wide  doors  of  old 
Colonel  Marshall's  place  brought  fluttering  down  the 

46 


THE       CAPTAIN 

steps  the  delightfully  inconsequent  person  of  Kitty 
herself  —  Kitty,  with  bright  curls  tucked  under  a 
cap  which  was  a  trap  for  everything  but  dust;  an 
apron  covering  her  to  her  plump  bare  arms  and 
dimpled  chin,  being  the  badge  of  rebellious  servitude 
to  the  task  of  house-cleaning  required  by  the  utili- 
tarian views  of  Aunt  Sarah.  On  tiptoe  she  stood 
and  delivered  herself  of  her  mingled  joy  and  sur- 
prise in  repeated  squeezes  of  Lee's  extended  hand 
and  a  volley  of  questions.  What  had  happened? 
Where  was  the  sewing?  Was  it  a  visit  for  all  day? 

"  Nothing  has  happened,"  was  Lee's  answer. 
With  the  thought  of  her  purpose  she  rallied  a  care- 
less expression  and  made  a  simple  yet  incompre- 
hensible explanation  of  Dick's  need  for  exercise,  an 
unexpected  dearth  of  sewing,  and  an  inadvertent 
turning  up  the  road  to  Kitty's  home.  All  of  which 
served  to  parry  Miss  Marshall's  immediate  questions, 
but  did  not  satisfy  her  curiosity. 

So,  while  Lee  talked  about  a  new  hat  which  had 
just  come  from  St.  Louis,  of  the  warmth  of  the  day 
for  the  season,  of  the  misbehaviour  of  Dick,  and  of 
a  party  which  was  in  prospect  at  Nina  Rennert's, 
her  listener,  with  fingers  twisting  the  apron-strings, 
lay  back  in  a  rocking-chair  on  the  porch,  and  with 
ingenuous  blue  eyes  tried  to  look  into  her  compan- 
ion's mind  and  discover  the  real  reason  for  the 
visit. 

But  half  an  hour  had  passed,  and  Lee,  with  a 

47 


THE       CAPTAIN 

particular  question  tripping  on  her  tongue,  finding 
gossip  a  trifle  difficult,  rose  to  go.  And  thereupon 
remembered,  quite  by  accident,  that  she  had  heard 
the  Captain  was  to  have  his  raising  "  some  day  next 
week."  Wouldn't  it  be  worth  while  to  ride  over  to- 
gether and  see  it? 

Not  for  an  instant  was  Miss  Marshall  deceived. 
Somewhere  ambushed  in  this  suggestion  was  the 
important  news.  But  she  answered,  carelessly 
enough,  "  It  seems  to  me  I  did  hear  something  like 
that.  Next  week,  you  say  ?  "  and  began  to  tuck  in 
a  stray  curl  by  the  aid  of  her  pretty  reflection  in  a 
window-pane.  She  still  wondered  why  on  earth  such 
a  fuss  should  have  been  made  about  this.  Lee's 
next  words  did  not  make  it  clear. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  you  don't  care  to  go,  then.  I 
thought  it  might  be  interesting.  When  are  you 
coming  to  see  me  ?  " 

Whereupon  Miss  Marshall  answered  straightway, 
"  I'll  come  to-morrow.  Then  we  can  decide  whether 
to  go  or  not.  I  think  I  will  go.  I'll  ask  Oswald 
Roner  to  go  with  me.  You'd  better  change  your 
mind.  Ask  David  to  go." 

Lee  had  gathered  the  reins  in  one  hand,  her  foot 
was  in  the  stirrup.  With  the  other  on  the  mounting- 
block,  she  paused.  "  Maybe  I  will.  You  ask 
Oswald,  anyhow.  You  can  stop  for  me  if  I  go. 
It's  on  your  way." 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Kitty  nodded.  "  But  don't  forget  David."  She 
had  been  watching.  She  was  sure  that  more 
than  the  necessities  of  mounting  turned  the  brown 
head  so  persistently  away.  She  waited  for  a  reply; 
then  repeated,  "  Send  him  word  to-day." 

"Who?"  asked  Lee.  "Oh,  you're  talking  of 
David.  No,  I  reckon  I  won't.  I  heard  him  tell 
the  Captain  he  would  come  to  help  him  at  the  raising. 
But  we  three  can  go  together." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  and  we'll  stop  for  you.  I'll  see 
you  to-morrow." 

But  as  Lee  waved  a  good-bye  at  the  end  of  the 
lane,  her  hostess  dropped  a  little  curtsy  and  wagged 
her  head.  "  So  you  heard  David  say  he  would  help 
the  Captain?"  she  mocked.  "And  so,  of  course, 
you  wouldn't  think  of  asking  him  to  ride  with  you? 
Oh,  no !  Not  for  anything !  " 

She  turned  and  walked  slowly  to  the  end  of  the 
porch,  twisting  the  apron-strings  diligently.  "  Now, 
what  has  David  done?  "  she  said,  aloud.  "  It  never 
happened  before.  Or  what  are  you  trying  to  do, 
Miss  Shirley  ?  "  She  was  silent  while  she  chased  an 
ant  along  the  porch  railing  with  a  finger-tip.  Then 
she  laughed.  "  Well,  I  can  wait  until  to-morrow 
afternoon  —  if  I  have  to."  And  with  that  she  ran 
into  the  house  singing  to  a  tune  all  her  own : 

" '  And  may  I  go  with  you,  my  pretty  maid? ' 
*  No,  thank  you  kindly,  sir,'  she  said." 

49 


THE       CAPTAIN 

It  was  a  tune  to  which  she  had  suddenly  taken 
an  immense  liking.  A  dozen  times  that  day  she 
hummed  it  to  herself. 

The  next  morning  she  drew  a  sheet  of  note-paper 
to  her,  and  for  several  minutes  sat  considering.  Her 
elbows  were  on  the  table,  and  she  nibbled  the  end 
of  the  penholder.  It  was  an  extremely  delicate  note 
to  frame,  but,  once  settled  on,  the  pen  flew  fast 
across  the  paper.  Five  minutes  later,  the  missive  in 
the  pocket  of  Uncle  Bobby,  on  mule-back,  was  started 
for  its  destination.  Kitty  herself  made  a  quick  toilet 
for  riding,  and  took  the  road.  But  it  was  not  the 
road  to  Lee's,  but  the  long  one  which  ran  toward  the 
Barracks  and  into  the  main  road  to  St.  Louis,  a  mile 
above  the  Mayhew  farm.  Once  there  she  pulled  her 
horse  in,  and  travelled  at  a  pace  which  indicated  that 
she  had  come  out  for  leisurely  enjoyment  of  the 
beech  and  oak  and  chestnut  now  preparing  to  pay 
their  russet  and  gilt  toll  to  winter. 

The  mellow  beauty  of  autumn  was  in  field  and 
wood  and  hillside.  The  haze  of  Indian  summer 
enveloped  the  ridges  and  made  dim  blue  the  distances 
in  which  the  road  curved  and  lost  itself  around  die 
base  of  a  hill.  A  checker-board  of  dun  and  gold 
stubble  and  the  brown  of  ploughed  ground  was 
spread  upon  the  slope  on  one  hand;  on  the  other  a 
tangle  of  underbrush  hid  the  stumps  of  last  year's 
cleared  land. 

It  may  have  been  that  Kitty  was  sensible  to  the 

50 


THE       CAPTAIN 

peaceful  charm  of  the  country.  But  her  eyes  said  she 
was  not.  They  roamed  the  stretch  of  road  ahead  with 
restless  movement.  They  did  not  seem  to  be  satis- 
fied with  what  came  within  their  view.  When  she 
had  mounted  the  slope  which  looked  down  on  the 
Mayhew  farm  and  its  buildings,  and  the  stretch  of 
lawn  with  its  locust-trees  in  front  of  the  house  was 
almost  at  her  feet,  she  drew  up  abruptly,  regard- 
ing with  plain  vexation  the  white,  barred  gate  and 
the  deserted  driveway.  Perhaps  it  was  only  impa- 
tience with  solitude,  perhaps  it  was  displeasure  with 
such  signs  of  inactivity  at  a  late  hour  of  the  morning. 
At  any  rate,  when  a  mounted  figure  came  around  the 
corner  of  the  house  she  laughed  softly.  "  It's  all 
right,  Duke,"  she  whispered  in  her  horse's  ear. 
"  We  didn't  come  for  nothing,  after  all.  Now  we 
will  hear  what  Mr.  Ford  has  to  say."  Then  with  a 
pat  of  the  curls  and  a  contented  glance  at  the  toe 
which  persisted  in  showing  itself  beneath  the  edge 
of  her  skirt,  she  cantered  forward.  All  at  once 
something  in  the  blending  colours  of  a  distant  clump 
of  trees  fixed  her  attention.  Only  when  the  thud 
of  hoofs  had  grown  too  loud  to  be  ignored  longer, 
she  saw  she  was  not  alone  on  the  road.  It  required 
a  second  and  a  third  look  even  then  to  prepare 
her  for  a  recognition  of  David.  But  there  was 
no  mistaking  her  greeting.  "  Why,  David ! "  she 
cried,  and  stopped  her  horse  across  the  road.  "  How 
you  made  me  jump !  I  have  not  been  this  way  for 

5* 


THE       CAPTAIN 

so  long.  I've  met  no  one  since  I  started.  I  was 
just  trying  to  make  out  the  place  where  the  Captain 
is  building  his  house.  It's  over  there,  isn't  it  ?  " 
She  pointed  with  her  riding-switch. 

David  had  halted,  but  plainly  was  in  a  hurry. 
"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  Over  on  that  ridge.  But  you 
can't  see  the  clearing  from  here.  Are  you  going 
there?" 

"  I  ?  Oh,  no.  At  least,  not  now.  But  I  may 
on —  What  day  is  the  raising?" 

"  To-morrow  week.  I  have  to  go  on.  I'm  bound 
for  St.  Louis,  and  I'm  late." 

He  lifted  the  reins  and  made  as  if  to  pass  by. 
But  Kitty  was  shading  her  eyes  in  an  effort  to  see 
the  clearing,  and  Duke  took  advantage  of  the  chance 
to  bar  David's  way.  "  To  St.  Louis,"  she  repeated. 
"  Then  there's  no  use  inviting  you  to  ride  with  me. 
I  am  going  to  Lee's." 

"  So?  I'm  sorry  I  can't  go  with  you."  The  reply 
was  a  polite  acknowledgment,  no  more.  Perhaps 
a  shade  of  resentment  crept  into  her  explanation, 
"  Yes,  I  am  making  up  a  little  party  to  see  the  Cap- 
tain raise  his  house.  I  asked  Oswald  Roner  to  go. 
I  hope  Lee  will  go,  too.  I  reckon  we'll  see  you 
there?" 

"  Yes,  I  told  the  Captain  I  would  help  him.  But 
I've  got  to  be  going.  Good-bye."  This  time  Duke 
did  not  move,  and  the  other  horse  swung  round 
and  passed  him. 

52 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"If  you  see  Oswald,"  called  Kitty,  "  ask  him  to 
come  over  to  Lee's.  I  think  she  wants  to  see  him." 

David's  "  All  right,  I  will,"  came  over  his 
shoulder.  It  made  the  young  lady  he  had  left  say 
very  positively,  "  David  Ford,  I'd  like  to  shake 
you."  Then,  after  a  pause,  "  But  I  reckon  Lee 
knows  of  something  better  than  a  shake.  And  I'll 
help  her.  I  will.  I'll  do  all  I  can.  It  will  serve 
you  right." 

But  when  Kitty  was  deep  in  one  of  Doctor 
Shirley's  cane  chairs  in  the  big  library,  with  its  book- 
lined  and  glass-cased  walls,  and  Lee,  opposite  her 
on  a  couch,  was  curled  up  in  that  mysterious  Oriental 
fashion  which  generations  of  young  women  have 
adopted  as  the  position  for  confidences,  and  which 
disposes  so  gracefully  of  the  embarrassment  of  legs, 
the  name  of  David  Ford  apparently  was  the  last 
thing  in  the  mind  of  either.  Nina  Rennert  and  her 
party,  and  next  the  Captain's  house-building,  were 
discussed.  The  probable  success  of  the  first,  depend- 
ing entirely,  it  seemed,  upon  the  chance  that  Nina 
would  wear  a  new  frock  and  necklace  sent  from 
New  Orleans  by  her  grandfather,  remained  in  the 
end  a  matter  of  reasonable  doubt. 

The  Captain's  house-building  drifted  into  an  ex- 
change of  opinions  upon  the  Captain  himself.  Kitty 
remorselessly  asserted  that,  if  she  had  been  the  Cap- 
tain's wife,  she  would  not  have  married  him  unless 
he  promised  never,  never  to  leave  the  army  and 

53 


THE       CAPTAIN 

always  to  take  her  with  him  wherever  he  went. 
"  It's  a  shame,"  she  declared.  "  He  might  have  been 
a  general.  Then  she  would  have  been  at  Washington 
or  some  place  where  there  is  lots  of  dancing  and 
parties  and  things  all  the  time.  Instead,  he  is 
a  farmer,  and  they  haven't  any  money,  and  he  does 
all  the  work  himself.  And  he  won't  ever  be  any- 
thing else." 

"  I  don't  believe  that,"  said  Lee.  "  You  ought  to 
have  seen  him  the  other  day.  He  had  come  out 
of  the  woods.  He  had  an  axe  on  his  arm.  It  was 
just  after  —  something  had  happened,  and  he  was 
speaking  of  it.  What  was  it  he  said?  Oh,  yes, 
*  When  you  make  up  your  mind  to  do  anything,' 
he  said,  '  do  it,  if  it  takes  for  ever.'  He  didn't  speak 
very  loud  and  he  wasn't  a  bit  excited.  He  didn't 
even  shake  his  head.  His  eyes  just  looked  bright 
and  steady.  But,  Kitty,  I  wouldn't  want  to  be  the 
person  that  was  against  him  when  he  started  in  to 
do  something.  I  don't  believe  he'll  be  a  farmer 
always." 

"  Well,  maybe  not."  Kitty  was  judicial.  "  But 
father  doesn't  think  he  will  be  liked  here.  He  says 
he's  stiff  and  unsociable.  Aunt  Sarah  hasn't  met 
him,  but,  of  course,  she's  sure  he  will  get  ahead." 

"  Why?    Because  the  Colonel  thinks  he  zvon't?" 

Kitty  laughed.  "  Partly.  But  also  she's  dis- 
covered that  his  father's  people  were  Connecticut 
Yankees.  You  know  what  that  means  to  her." 

54 


TH.  E       CAPTAIN 

;'  Yes,  and  your  Aunt  Sarah  is  a  pretty  good 
captain  herself." 

Kitty  drew  a  rueful  mouth,  and  Lee  went  on.  "  I 
think  your  father's  wrong.  The  Captain  does  laugh 
sometimes,  and  that  stiffness  is  just  his  way. 
You  ought  to  see  him  with  those  two  little  boys  of 
his.  And  'Lias  told  me  that,  when  he  was  away  out 
on  the  Pacific  Coast  and  the  mail  had  come  in  one 
day,  he  showed  the  Captain  a  letter  he  had  from 
his  family  at  home.  He  said  the  Captain  smiled, 
and  took  out  a  letter  and  showed  it  to  him.  It  had 
a  baby's  hand  drawn  on  it,  Kitty,  —  the  Captain's 
baby.  The  Captain  looked  at  it  a  minute.  Then 
he  put  it  back  into  his  pocket  quickly,  and  walked 
out  of  the  room.  'Lias  says  his  eyes  were  wet,  and 
he'd  never  seen  them  that  way  before." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  I  didn't  think  he  was  that  kind  of 
a  man." 

"  I  didn't  either  at  first.  Sometime  I'll  get  'Lias 
to  tell  you  about  what  happened  when  they  marched 
across  the  Isthmus.  It  was  horrible.  Men  fell 
down  on  the  road  choking  with  the  heat  and  fever 
and  chills  and  cholera,  and  'Lias  says  the  Captain 
never  took  his  boots  off  the  whole  time,  and  was 
soaked  to  the  skin  every  minute.  But  he  never  fal- 
tered, and  kept  saying  cheerful  things  to  everybody. 
He  gave  his  last  cent,  to  buy  a  horse  for  a  woman, 
and  then  turned  over  his  own  horse  to  some  one 


55 


THE       CAPTA.IN 

else  and  tramped  up  and  down,  and  never  com- 
plained." 

"  I  never  heard  anything  about  that,"  said  Kitty. 
"  I'm  going  to  tell  it  to  father.  Perhaps  he'll  change 
his  mind.  But  he  has  no  patience  with  abolition- 
ists." 

"  Why  the  Captain  owns  slaves ;  his  father-in- 
law  gave  him  four." 

Kitty  laughed.  "  Yes,  he  has  slaves.  But  — 
well,  it's  disgusting  the  way  he  treats  them,  or 
rather  the  way  they  treat  him." 

"  It  is  shameful,"  Lee  admitted.  "  He's  been  out 
in  the  woods  there  for  weeks,  chopping  down  trees 
and  hauling  stones  and  everything  else,  and  not  one 
of  those  lazy  niggers  helped  him  worth  a  cent.  It's 
a  wonder  to  me  he's  done  what  he  has.  But  —  " 
she  finished,  gravely,  "  somehow,  I  like  to  see  a  man 
working  that  way.  I  want  to  see  his  house." 

Kitty  recalled  her  errand.  "  Then  you're  going 
with  Oswald  and  me  ?  " 

"  I'm  going,  of  course.    Didn't  we  arrange  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  so  we  did.     You  and  Oswald  and  I." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  David !  You  asked  him  ?  "  The  question 
was  casual.  The  questioner  did  not  repeat  it  when 
Lee  forgot  to  answer  in  a  sudden  recollection  of 
something  to  be  inspected  in  her  room. 

But  as  she  followed  her  hostess  up-stairs  she  was 


THE       CAPTAIN 

humming  in  an  undertone  the  persistent  refrain 
which  afforded  her  such  pleasure  the  day  before. 

Whether  or  not  this  was  contagious,  the  fact 
remains  that  the  following  afternoon  it  popped  into 
Lee's  head  quite  suddenly,  as  she  saw  David  riding 
toward  the  house.  For  a  moment  afterward  she 
hesitated  between  resolve  to  do  her  whole  duty,  or 
have  the  satisfaction  of  doing  the  thing  which  some 
one  else  least  expected. 

It  was  David  who  decided  for  her.  He  declined 
her  invitation  to  come  up  on  the  porch.  "  No,"  he 
said,  "  he  had  come  over  only  to  ask  her  to  ride  with 
him  to  see  the  raising  of  the  Captain's  house.  It 
was  going  to  be  on  Thursday  of  next  week." 

Lee,  perched  on  the  porch  railing,  heard  his  news 
with  a  face  that  was  all  interest. 

"Oh,  is  it?"  she  said.  "I  was  wondering 
whether  he  had  decided  on  a  day." 

She  made  no  response  to  his  invitation.  A  little 
puzzled,  he  asked,  "You  are  going,  aren't  you? 
The  Captain  hoped  you'd  be  there." 

"  Of  course,  I  intend  to  go.    I  wouldn't  miss  it." 

His  face  brightened.  "I  thought  you  were. 
Please  be  ready  on  time.  I  will  come  at  three 
o'clock." 

"Come?  Where?"    Her  countenance  was  a  map 

of  mystification. 
"Here  — for  you." 
"But    I'm    not  — I    can't    go   with    you,"    she 

57 


THE       CAPTAIN 

answered.  "I've  already  promised  to  go  —  with 
some  one  else." 

There  is  no  denying  that  David  stammered.  But 
the  surprise  of  the  thing  rather  than  disappointment 
spoke  in  his  voice.  "  Why,  I  —  I  don't  understand. 
I  asked  you  to  go  with  me." 

"Did  you?  When?  Oh,  yes,  just  now.  But 
you  see,  some  one  else  asked  me  before.  Oswald 
is  coming  here.  I  haven't  told  him  what  time  I'll 
be  ready.  But  I'm  going.  We'll  see  you." 

If  she  expected  David  to  remonstrate  or  to  retreat 
upon  his  dignity,  she  was  mistaken.  "  I  see,"  he 
said,  slowly.  "  I'm  sorry  I  didn't  ask  you  before. 
But  I  told  the  Captain  I  would  help  him,  and  at  first 
I  didn't  think  I'd  have  time  to  come  for  you." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  would,"  she  answered. 
"  Besides,  I  might  not  be  ready  when  you  came. 
It's  better  for  me  to  go  with  Oswald.  He  isn't  in 
a  hurry  to  do  something  else." 

David  was  sure  this  was  a  rebuke  till  he  realised 
how  cheerful  was  her  face.  "  Well,  I  hope  you'll 
have  a  good  ride,"  he  said.  "  I  remember  now, 
Kitty  did  speak  about  a  party.  I'll  see  you  there." 

"  I  reckon  so.  I've  something  to  do  for  father. 
Good-bye." 

She  slipped  from  the  railing  as  he  turned  his 
horse.  But  in  the  shadow  of  the  doorway  she  re- 
mained until  he  was  a  hundred  feet  away.  "  It 
served  you  right,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I'm  glad 

58 


THE       CAPTAIN 

I  did  if.  I'll  do  it  again."  She  repeated  this  to 
herself  three  times.  Each  time  it  was  more  em- 
phatic. Then,  because  her  gratification  needed  soli- 
tude for  its  complete  enjoyment,  she  gathered  up 
her  skirts  and  walked  slowly  to  her  room,  and 
locked  the  door  behind  her.  It  is  immensely  satis- 
factory to  have  done  one's  duty  and  to  have  taught 
a  needed  lesson  at  the  same  time. 

It  may  have  been  with  a  desire  to  note  how  salu- 
tary this  particular  lesson  had  been,  that  she  looked 
for  David  as  soon  as  she  drew  rein  at  the  clearing's 
edge  on  the  afternoon  of  the  raising.  But  for  a 
few  minutes  she  did  not  discover  him.  There  were 
half  a  hundred  men  in  the  open  space.  A  score  of 
saddle-horses  were  tied  to  trees  at  one  side.  From 
the  road  came  an  occasional  neigh  from  the  dozen 
horses  hitched  there,  among  them  the  black  mare 
that  drew  the  light  wagon  in  which  Mr.  Mayhew 
always  rode.  And,  with  the  exception  of  Mr. 
Mayhew,  who  sat  on  a  log  at  one  side,  his  crutch 
by  him  and  his  eyes  half-closed,  every  one  in  the 
clearing  was  busy.  The  logs  were  rapidly  being 
rolled  forward  and  put  into  place.  Already  the 
house  walls  were  breast-high.  At  one  corner  Sandy, 
a  powerful  negro,  one  of  the  Captain's  slaves, 
wielded  an  axe;  at  another  a  man  sent  over  by  a 
neighbour.  At  the  third,  'Lias,  with  hairy  throat 
and  arms,  worked  opposite  the  Captain. 

The  Captain's  coat  was  off,  his  sleeves  rolled  up, 

59 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  his  hat  cast  aside,  showing  his  compact  frame, 
and  strong,  bearded  face.  His  eyes  were  aglow.  He 
gave  directions  with  a  quick  decision  that  surprised 
some  of  those  who  had  known  him  only  at  long 
range  or  on  their  own  ground.  He  wielded  his  axe 
with  vigour  and  skill,  and  the  notches  showed  deep 
and  clean  at  his  end  of  the  logs.  For  a  short  time 
the  three  on  horseback  watched  with  silent  interest. 
Then  Kitty  spied  David,  who  was  busy  with  cord 
and  chalk  at  a  pile  of  logs  on  the  other  side  of  the 
clearing.  She  spoke  to  Lee. 

"David?  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  answer,  "I  see 
him."  But  the  gray  eyes  stole  a  glance  across  the 
clearing  at  the  first  chance.  When  she  saw  him  look 
toward  her,  she  nodded.  Then  she  turned  to  Oswald. 
"  Oh !  there  is  that  dreadful  Sandy,  of  the  Captain's. 
The  one  with  red  hair.  Ugh!  but  I  dislike  him." 

"  Why?  "  said  Oswald.  "  He's  a  nigger  like  the 
rest,  and  he's  a  good  hand  with  the  axe." 

"  But,  he's  —  dreadful.  He's  so  sullen.  And 
he's  treacherous.  I'm  sure  of  it." 

"  I  don't  like  him,  either,"  put  in  Kitty.  "  I  never 
did." 

Oswald  laughed.  "  He's  lazy,  I  reckon,  if  that's 
what  you  mean.  But  they  all  are.  They  need  to 
be  stirred  up.  That  man  is  loafing  right  now.  I 
reckon  he  wouldn't  be  that  way  if  he  belonged  to 
Mr.  Mayhew." 

"  No,"  said  Kitty,  quickly.     "  I  am  sure  of  that. 

60 


THE       CAPTAIN 

David's  uncle  is  worse  than  Sandy.  He  gives  me 
the  shivers.  He's  creepy." 

"What's  that?"  asked  a  voice.  She  gave  a 
little  start.  "  We  were  talking  about  —  about  that 
man  Sandy.  Isn't  he  horrible?  " 

"  I  don't  like  him,"  said  David,  bluntly.  "  He's 
been  shirking  all  day.  I'd  speak  to  the  Captain, 
only  I  know  it  wouldn't  do  much  good."  He  turned 
to  Lee.  She  was  talking  to  Oswald.  "  You  got 
here  on  time,  after  all  ?  " 

Her  face  came  around  swiftly.  "  Oh,  how  are 
you,  David  ?  It  depends  upon  what  you  call  '  on 
time.'  I  wasn't  ready  when  Oswald  came,  if  that's 
it,"  she  added,  in  a  lower  voice. 

He  smiled.  "  Lee,  you  ought  to  get  over  that 
habit." 

"What  habit?" 

"  Keeping  everybody  waiting.  Why  don't  you 
try?" 

"  Because  I  don't  have  to."  Her  face  was  chal- 
lenging, but  her  voice  was  a  little  more  decided  than 
she  had  intended.  She  knew  Kitty  was  listening. 

But  David's  good  humour  was  not  disturbed. 
"  That's  the  truth  exactly,"  he  said.  "  It  is  every- 
body's fault,  but  yours  too." 

"  Thank  you.  So  you  think  I'm  spoiled.  Don't 
let  that  annoy  you.  You  needn't  be  one  to  assist  in 
doing  it."  He  laughed ;  and  she  was  nettled  into 
adding,  "  Hadn't  you  better  go  back  to  your  work  ? 

61 


THE       CAPTAIN 

The  Captain  needs  you  —  "  She  paused,  and  he 
finished  for  her,  "  More  than  you  do,  you  were 
going  to  say.  Perhaps  he  does.  Anyway,  I'd  better 
see."  He  spoke  quietly,  but  there  was  a  shadow  in 
his  eyes. 

She  saw  it,  and  was  for  telling  him  he  was  wrong. 
But  just  then  Oswald  broke  in :  "  That  nigger  wants 
a  whipping,  if  ever  one  did.  Look  at  him !  " 

Sandy  was  moving  sullenly  to  help  pick  up  the  end 
of  a  log  over  which  'Lias  bent.  'Lias  had  called  him 
twice,  and  now  the  red  flamed  in  his  face  and  corded 
neck.  On  the  far  side  of  the  building  they  were 
having  difficulty,  and  the  crowd  was  looking  that 
way.  But  one  other  person  saw  Sandy's  slow  move- 
ment. As  Oswald  spoke,  the  crippled  figure  of  Mr. 
Mayhew  approached,  swinging  forward  on  his 
crutch  with  surprising  swiftness.  He  came  from 
behind  the  negro.  Suddenly  he  spoke  to  him. 
"  Sandy,"  he  said,  "  get  to  work  at  once.  At  once, 
do  you  hear?  " 

At  the  sound  the  negro's  head  jerked  violently 
on  his  shoulders.  In  his  face  was  dumb  terror. 
But  his  hands  were  on  the  log  instantly.  His 
bended  back  straightened  with  such  force  and  swift- 
ness that  'Lias  staggered. 

"  By  thunder !  "  exclaimed  Oswald.  "  Did  you 
see  that,  David?  It  must  weigh  five  hundred 
pounds." 

But  David  did  not  answer.     Instead  he  walked 

62 


THE       CAPTAIN 

quickly  away.  Kitty  turned  to  Lee.  "I'm  not 
going  to  stay  here.  I'm  afraid;  I  honestly  am.  Did 
you  see  that  man's  face?  It  was  awful." 

'  Yes,"  said  Lee,  "  it  was.  I'm  ready  to  go,  any- 
way." Oswald's  protests  and  jokes  were  of  no  avail. 
When  David  looked  for  them  a  few  minutes  later, 
they  were  gone. 

But  if  he  guessed  at  why  they  left  so  suddenly, 
he  made  no  allusion  to  it  the  next  time  he  saw  Lee. 
Indeed  the  day  of  the  raising  was  not  mentioned. 
Then,  at  the  end  of  the  month,  Lee  went  away,  and 
for  two  months  they  did  not  see  each  other.  Kitty 
had  gone  on  a  visit  to  Boston,  and  Lee  had  gone 
with  her.  David  was  engaged  with  some  business 
for  his  uncle,  and  this  necessitated  frequent  trips  to 
St.  Louis. 

The  Captain's  house  was  finished.  It  was  a 
plain,  roomy  building,  simply  furnished,  but  well 
stocked  with  firewood  from  the  trees  on  the  fifty 
acres  of  land  which  his  wife's  father  had  given 
them. 

The  Captain  christened  it  "  Hardscrabble,"  with 
humourous  appreciation  of  its  rough  appearance,  and 
the  task  it  had  been  to  build  it.  But  he  was  seldom 
away  from  it,  unless  when  working  elsewhere,  or 
with  his  wife  at  a  near-by  merrymaking.  He 
spent  most  of  his  evenings  beside  the  fire,  reading 
or  talking  to  his  wife.  David  passed  many  an  hour 

63 


THE       CAPTAIN 

there.  He  was  a  first-rate  checker  player,  but  he 
was  beaten  every  time. 

Gradually  people  in  the  settlement  were  coming  to 
know  the  Captain  better.  Most  of  them  respected 
him  for  his  solid,  simple  habits  and  his  willingness 
to  lend  a  hand  when  needed.  He  was  proving  that 
he  meant  what  he  said  when  he  declared  he  would 
be  a  well-to-do  farmer,  if  hard  work  would  accom- 
plish it.  They  liked  him  for  this.  But  some  of 
them  could  not  understand  the  reserve  which  said 
"  stand  off "  to  any  attempt  at  uninvited  famil- 
iarity. 

Colonel  Marshall,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to  call 
on  him,  because  he  was  a  West  Point  man,  did  not 
see  him  often.  And  distrust  of  his  sympathies  on 
the  slave  question  was  an  insuperable  barrier.  Each 
day  abolition  became  a  sharper  issue.  Over  it 
friendship  weakened  and  political  opinions  split. 

The  Captain  went  his  way  apparently  unchanged 
and  oblivious.  "  He  attends  strictly  to  his  own 
business,"  said  Major  Wilkins,  one  day.  Major 
Wilkins  was  stationed  at  the  Barracks,  and  had  met 
the  Colonel  in  the  Planters'  Hotel  in  St.  Louis. 
"  He  comes  out  to  the  Barracks  occasionally,"  he 
went  on,  "  and  we  talk  over  Scott  and  the  Mexican 
War,  or  the  days  at  the  Point.  Now  and  then,  we 
have  a  wrestle  over  some  question  of  campaigning. 
But  that's  about  all.  He  don't  talk  politics  often." 

"  But  he's  a  Northern  man,   sir,"  objected  the 

64 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Colonel,  courteously.  "  I  have  seen  him  several 
times  coming  out  of  the  office  of  the  Democrat. 
Once  I  encountered  him  talking  to  the  editor  of  that 
sheet  in  this  very  place.  He  is  a  Northern  man,  sir, 
an  abolitionist,  I  repeat." 

The  Major  shook  his  head.  "  I  do  not  think  you 
are  correct,"  he  said.  "  I  believe  he  has  no  sympa- 
thy for  this  movement.  All  his  people  own  slaves." 

The  Colonel  was  unconvinced.  "  That  may  be, 
but  he  is  a  man  of  his  own  mind.  He  is  New  Eng- 
land in  his  ideals.  He  will  never  change.  My 
sister-in-law  and  I  differ  on  many  points,  but  she 
is  a  woman  of  discernment  and  she  says  this,  and 
I  agree  with  her." 

"  He  is  certainly  not  a  Yankee  in  the  management 
of  his  finances,"  returned  the  Major,  dryly.  "  If  he 
has  a  cent  in  his  pocket,  it's  ready  for  any  one  who 
needs  it." 

The  Colonel  relaxed.  "  You  surprise  me,  Major. 
I  had  no  knowledge  of  this.  I  had  an  idea  that  he 
was,  —  well,  rather  careful  where  his  money  went. 
I  must  tell  Sarah  that.  I  really  must,"  he  added. 
The  gleam  of  coming  battle  was  in  his  eye. 

David  could  have  told  the  Colonel  more  on  this 
point.  One  incident  in  particular  there  was,  a  pleas- 
ant recollection  and  a  disturbing  reminder.  He  had 
started  —  it  was  early  in  that  spring  —  to  go  to 
the  store,  but  had  changed  his  mind  and  turned  off 
up  the  road  to  the  Captain's.  It  was  a  warm  evening 

65 


THE       CAPTAIN 

hinting  of  the  budding  of  trees.  When  he  came 
opposite  the  log-house  in  the  clearing,  he  saw  the 
Captain  standing  at  his  doorway,  puffing  a  pipe 
while  he  gazed  across  at  a  field  over  which  the  green 
haze  of  sprouting  wheat  spread  a  carpet. 

He  called  to  David  to  come  in,  and  in  the  biggest 
of  the  four  big  rooms  they  sat  down.  The  remains  of 
a  fire  smouldered  in  one  of  the  wide  fireplaces.  The 
room  itself  bore  here  and  there  the  touches  of  a 
woman's  hand.  The  Captain's  wife,  in  a  rocker  by 
the  fire,  was  darning  stockings. 

She  welcomed  him.  "  The  children  are  asleep," 
she  explained.  "  The  Captain  was  just  thinking  of 
reading  aloud  a  little  while.  My  eyes  trouble  me. 
Would  you  mind  if  he  did?  " 

"  I'd  like  it,"  said  David,  "  I'll  sit  here."  He 
took  a  seat  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire.  The  Cap- 
tain, under  the  lamp  near  by,  found  the  book.  It 
was  Irving's  "  Sketch  Book." 

He  opened  it  and  smoothed  the  page  "  It's 
an  old  friend  of  mine,"  he  said.  "  Bulwer  and 
Irving  and  Lever  were  my  favourites  once,  and  I 
haven't  lost  my  liking  for  them." 

Then  he  began  to  read. 

But  it  was  to  the  voice,  not  to  the  words  that 
David  found  himself  listening.  It  was  not  a  remark- 
able voice,  but  clear,  calm.  It  seemed  that  no  other 
voice  could  so  well  have  suited  the  place.  There 
was  comfort  in  the  room,  in  the  motherly  figure 

66 


THE       CAPTAIN 

in  the  rocking-chair  with  the  pile  of  much  darned 
stockings  in  her  lap,  and  her  fingers  moving  nimbly, 
and  in  the  rugged  face  of  the  Captain  in  the  mellow 
light  of  the  lamp.  It  brought  back  to  David  even- 
ings which  he  could  faintly  remember.  His  voice 
was  husky  when  the  Captain  asked  a  question.  Just 
then  they  heard  a  carriage  stop  in  front  of  the  house, 
a  moment  later  a  knock.  The  Captain  went  to  the 
door  and  opened  it.  Mr.  Mayhew  stood  there. 

David  got  up  astonished.  But  his  uncle  said, 
"  Good  evening,"  quietly,  and  took  the  seat  offered 
him.  Then  the  baby  cried,  and  the  Captain's  wife 
left  the  room. 

"  I've  only  come  in  for  a  moment,"  Mr.  Mayhew 
said.  "  Perhaps  you  have  heard  we're  trying  to  put 
up  a  little  church." 

"  And  you  want  me  to  contribute,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain, promptly.  "  All  right.  I  will.  I  don't  go 
to  church  much.  But  we  ought  to  have  one.  I'll  give 
you  five  dollars." 

"  The  widow's  mite,  you  remember,"  remarked 
Mr.  Mayhew.  "  It  is  more  than  - 

"  It  is  not  much,"  interrupted  the  Captain.  There 
was  a  shade  of  annoyance  in  his  voice.  ;<  You  are 
welcome  to  it." 

Mr.  Mayhew  folded  the  money  in  his  wallet  with 
care.  The  Captain  was  standing,  so  he  rose  as  if 
to  go.  The  Captain  made  no  remark,  and  his  visitor 
moved  to  the  door.  Just  over  the  threshold  he 

67 


THE       CAPTAIN 

stopped.  He  spoke  to  the  Captain,  who  stood  in 
the  doorway.  David  heard  the  remark,  "  We  have 
bad  news  from  Kansas  to-day,"  and  the  reply, 
"  Yes."  Then  for  several  minutes  he  heard  only 
occasional  words.  He  had  purposely  walked  to  the 
end  of  the  room.  But  he  could  not  close  his  ears  to 
the  Captain's  statement,  "  I  have  nothing  to  say 
about  that.  I  have  several  slaves,  as  you  know. 
What  I  will  do  with  them  is  of  no  interest  to  any 
one  but  myself."  Of  the  reply  to  this  nothing  was 
plain  but  the  apologetic  tone.  A  minute  later  there 
was  the  sound  of  departing  carriage  wheels. 

The  Captain  closed  the  door  and  walked  over  to 
the  fireplace.  Presently  he  kicked  a  glowing  log  into 
a  blaze  and  turned  about.  David's  brain  was  busy. 
What  he  had  overheard  was  surely  strange.  His 
uncle  had  cautioned  him  against  speaking  on  this 
very  question. 

The  Captain  spoke.  "  Your  uncle  is  very  much 
interested  in  the  abolition  movement,"  he  said. 
"  I  never  knew  it  before." 


68 


IV 

COLONEL 

MARSHALL  PROPHESIES 

THAT  summer  David  saw  little  of  Lee.  With 
her  father  she  went  to  the  Virginia  Springs. 
Soon  after  she  returned  in  the  autumn,  Nina 
Rennert  took  her  on  a  visit  to  New  Orleans.  David 
wrote  to  her  now  and  then.  But  he  got  more  letters 
than  he  sent.  Presently  she  complained  of  this. 
When  he  apologised  that  he  was  very  busy,  imme- 
diately she  protested  that  she  had  too  many  places 
to  go  and  people  to  see  to  write  so  often  herself. 
There  began  to  be  longer  intervals  between  the  letters 
with  the  New  Orleans  postmark. 

But  David  was  occupied  with  something  else, 
and  deduced  little  from  this.  He  did  faithfully, 
his  share  of  the  work  upon  the  farm,  which 
his  uncle  every  day  put  more  and  more  upon  his 
shoulders.  Mr.  Mayhew  had  taken  an  interest  in 
a  cotton  business  somewhere  in  Mississippi,  David 
understood.  There  was  much  correspondence  in- 
volved. Also  there  were  many  letters  to  be  carried 
to  or  brought  from  parties  in  St.  Louis.  David 

69 


THE       CAPTAIN 

often  was  the  messenger.  But  in  spite  of  his  work 
he  was  restless  and  silent.  One  night  it  all  came 
to  a  head.  He  entered  the  living-room  to  find  it 
dark,  and  his  uncle's  figure  a  blurred  silhouette 
against  the  window-frame.  Mr.  Mayhew  spoke  to 
him  at  once,  "  David,  there  is  no  use  worrying  about 
this  going  to  college.  I  have  told  you  before  why 
it  is  not  wise.  You  have  work  here.  There  may  be 
more  for  you  to  do  soon.  Can't  you  give  up  the 
idea  of  college?  " 

The  sudden  reading  of  his  thoughts  made  David 
start,  but  he  answered,  plainly,  "  No,  I  can't  give 
it  up.  I  want  to  go.  I  don't  want  to  stay  here  — 
a  farmer.  I  will  be  twenty-one  in  less  than  a  year. 
I  have  money  of  my  own.  I  mean  to  go  as  soon 
as  I  have  the  right  to  go.  But  I'd  rather  you'd  say 
that  I  can  —  now." 

.  It  was  bluntly  put.  He  looked  for  a  rebuke ;  but 
none  came.  For  fully  a  minute  he  stood  in  the  dark, 
wondering  what  was  passing  in  the  face  he  could 
not  see.  His  uncle's  eyes,  he  knew,  were  studying 
his  face  as  easily  almost  as  if  the  sunlight 
streamed  upon  it.  Then  the  answer  came,  and  his 
heart  leaped.  "  Wait  until  next  year,"  his  uncle 
said.  "  If  your  mind  is  the  same  way  then,  you  can 
go."  This  was  the  last  word  between  them  on 
the  subject  for  many  months.  But  more  than  once 
David  was  aware  that  he  was  under  observation, 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  that  his  uncle  guessed  with  what  his  thoughts 
were  busy. 

When  Lee  returned  he  spoke  to  her  about  it.  She 
discussed  his  plans  from  every  side.  She  was  sure 
that  he  was  right  to  go,  but  a  little  reservation  tem- 
pered her  remark,  "  It  will  seem  very  queer  not 
to  have  you  around." 

He  said  it  would  be  strange.  He  was  sorry.  But 
it  couldn't  be  helped,  could  it?  She  must  write  to 
him  often  about  what  went  on,  —  about  Oswald, 
and  Nina  Rennert,  and  Nina's  brother  who  was 
abroad,  and  Miss  Sarah  Pinckney,  and  the  Colonel, 
and  their  conflicts.  He  would  write  to  her  whenever 
the  chance  came. 

One  evening  they  were  in  the  library.  Doctor 
Shirley  had  gone  out.  Lee  was  bending  over  a 
Latin  grammar  in  a  hunt  for  a  word  he  wanted. 
The  light  burnished  her  hair.  David  suddenly  saw 
that  her  eyes  were  not  on  the  book  at  all.  One  finger 
was  marking  the  leaf ;  she  was  gazing  at  the  floor. 
There  was  a  wistful  droop  to  her  lips.  He  did  not 
comprehend  all  of  its  meaning,  but  he  asked,  "  Will 
you  really  miss  me  so  much  ?  " 

She  caught  her  head  back  with  a  shamed  start. 
The  faintest  colour  touched  her  cheeks.  "  Of  course 
I  will." 

He  smiled  to  cover  the  embarrassment  which 
surprised  him  as  much  as  it  did  her.  She  saw  the 
smile  and  her  colour  deepened. 

71 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  I  reckon,  though,  I  will  manage  to  get  along 
somehow,"  she  added,  lightly.  "  I  felt  about  as 
bad  as  I  could  when  Tom  Rennert  left.  But  I  got 
over  it,"  with  a  laugh.  "  And  Oswald  will  be  here. 
I  like  him  very  much." 

Somehow  this  did  not  please  David.  She  might 
have  taken  it  more  seriously.  But  the  wish  and  the 
occasion  for  it  were  driven  from  his  recollection. 
There  was  much  to  think  of  in  the  prospect  of  a 
year  ahead.  The  choice  of  a  college  was  important 
and  unsettled.  He  took  counsel. 

Lee  was  for  a  Southern  college.  The  University 
of  Virginia  was  her  selection.  She  had  met  several 
undergraduates  at  the  Springs.  They  were  all  fine 
fellows  and  gentlemen.  She  had  visited  the  old 
college  buildings,  and  told  him  of  their  classic 
beauty  and  traditions  of  great  men. 

The  Captain,  when  asked,  pondered.  But,  in  the 
end,  he  was  plainly  for  one  of  the  universities  of 
New  England,  or  New  Jersey,  or  Pennsylvania. 
"  You  will  meet  men  there,"  he  said,  "  who  will  put 
new  ideas  before  you.  They  look  at  some  things 
from  a  standpoint  different  from  the  one  you've 
been  used  to.  It  will  do  you  good.  All  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  isn't  tucked  into  this  corner  of 
Missouri  —  or  into  the  South,  either.  And  in  some 
ways  these  two  are  a  good  deal  alike.  It  never  does 
any  harm  to  hear  both  sides  of  a  question." 

"  You  mean  abolition  ?  " 

72 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  I  mean  any  question,  though  I  may  have  been 
thinking  of  that  one.  It's  the  biggest  of  all  —  bigger 
even  than  most  of  us  estimate.  Some  of  our  people 
say  it  has  all  been  patched  up.  Maybe  it  has.  If  it 
hasn't  been,  every  man  who's  worth  anything  ought 
to  know  all  that  he  can  about  it,  —  how  long  it  is, 
and  how  broad  and  how  deep  it  goes.  It  won't  be 
settled  in  Kansas.  It  won't  all  be  settled  in  these 
parts  when  the  country  makes  up  its  mind  to  tackle 
it  finally." 

David  was  doing  his  own  thinking  on  this  point. 
Every  day  news  came  from  across  the  western  bor- 
der which  furnished  a  text  both  for  slavery  and 
antislavery  men.  From  further  south  came  mutter- 
ings  and  threats.  In  Washington,  again  and  again, 
the  House  and  Senate  rose  to  its  feet  in  wild  applause 
or  angry  protest  over  words  of  no  double  meaning. 
Across  the  river  a  tall,  ungainly  man,  in  ill-fitting 
black  clothes  and  rusty  silk  hat  —  the  same  whose 
logic  and  plain  speaking  had  driven  Mr.  Douglas 
to  the  wall  —  was  asking  questions  every  day  which 
stuck  in  the  mind  and  called  for  a  straight  yea  or 
nay. 

With  Colonel  Marshall  it  was  ever  nay.  He  lost 
no  opportunity  to  deliver  himself. 

"  Good  gracious ! "  cried  Kitty,  bursting  in  on 
Lee  one  afternoon  and  tumbling  in  a  heap  on  a 
couch  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  "  I'm  nearly  ex- 
hausted. I  fled  here,  Lee.  I  really  had  to.  I 

73 


THE       CAPTAIN 

couldn't  stand  it  a  minute  longer  at  home.  Father 
and  Aunt  Sarah  are  at  it  —  shovel  and  tongs.  It 
began  with  an  argument  this  morning.  They  hadn't 
finished  it  when  I  left.  Every  minute  it  was 
growing  worse.  It  was  dreadful.  And  it  all  started 
because  Aunt  Sarah  threw  father's  copy  of  the 
Missouri  State  Journal  into  the  fire.  You  ought 
to  have  heard  the  Colonel  when  he  found  that  out." 

Kitty  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height.  She 
advanced  on  Lee  with  a  countenance  of  scorn,  point- 
ing a  finger.  Then,  overcome  by  the  recollection, 
she  threw  herself  back  upon  the  couch  and  buried 
her  laughter  in  a  cushion. 

Such  scenes  were  not  uncommon  at  the  Marshall 
home.  David,  calling  one  evening  to  see  Kitty,  came 
upon  a  conflict  which  was  waged  so  fiercely  that  his 
entrance  was  unnoticed. 

The  Colonel  was  standing  on  one  side  of  the  table 
by  which  Miss  Sarah  Pinckney  sat.  His  arms  were 
behind  him,  his  head  thrown  back.  "  A  nice  pass 
it  has  come  to ! "  he  declared.  "  A  nice  pass, 
when  a  rascal  disgracing  his  profession  may  boldly 
invade  a  territory  with  the  offscourings  of  his 
crowded  East  at  his  heels,  and  set  up  a  government 
against  the  will  of  the  people,  —  yes,  and  against 
the  will  of  the  government  at  Washington  of  which 
you  talk  so  much." 

"  I  do  not  talk  of  it  "now,"  replied  the  spinster, 


74 


THE       CAPTAIN 

quickly.  "  It  is  none  of  mine.  A  weak-kneed,  apolo- 
getic President,  who  is  afraid  of  everybody!  " 

"  He  is  your  own,  at  any  rate/'  returned  the 
Colonel.  "  And  he  has  appointed  a  governor  for 
this  territory  of  Kansas  which  your  Connecticut 
rapscallion  doctor  and  his  rabble  put  aside.  I  tell 
you,  madam,  it  will  not  do!  We  are  patient.  We 
are  calm  —  " 

"Are  you  speaking  of  yourself  now,  Henry?" 
inquired  Miss  Sarah. 

The  Colonel,  whose  arm  had  been  raised  for 
rhetorical  effect,  suddenly  paused.  For  a  moment 
he  glared  in  silence.  Then  he  lowered  his  arm. 
"  No,"  he  said,  with  a  voice  which  he  tried  hard 
to  control,  "  you  know  I  am  speaking  of  the  gen- 
tlemen of  this  country  —  of  the  South,  of  this  State 
of  Missouri." 

"  Pray  what  has  Missouri  to  do  with  Kansas  ?  " 
There  was  a  gleam  of  humour  behind  the  spectacles. 
It  should  have  warned  the  Colonel,  but  it  did  not. 
She  had  folded  her  hands  in  her  lap,  too,  which  was 
a  sure  sign  that  she  was  content  with  the  way  the 
argument  was  moving. 

"What  has  Missouri  to  do  with  it?"  repeated 
the  Colonel.  "  It  has  everything.  What  has  your 
Kansas  Free  Soil  Party  done?  " 

Miss  Sarah  smiled  triumphantly. 

"I  know,"  she  said,  "  that  there  was  an  election 
in  Kansas  on  December  isth,  and  that  the  Free  Soil 

75 


THE       CAPTAIN 

party  was  in  a  large  majority,  despite  the  bully- 
ing of  your  Missouri  brigands,  which  you  seem  to 
have  forgotten.  You  are  continually  harping  on 
the  rights  of  citizens,  Henry.  I  wish  you  would 
be  a  little  more  consistent." 

"  Consistent !  "  trumpeted  the  Colonel.  "  Do  you 
apply  that  word  to  me?  Why,  madam,  no  woman 
ever  knew  the  meaning  of  the  word !  You  are  prov- 
ing it  yourself  every  minute  with  your  professions  of 
faith  in  the  Union  and  its  Constitution,  and  your 
underhand  efforts  to  overthrow  one  of  the  institu- 
tions which  it  guarantees." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind,"  returned  Miss 
Sarah.  "  And  you  have  not  answered  my  question. 
What  has  Kansas  to  do  with  Missouri  ?  " 

The  Colonel  advanced  a  step.  His  arm  was  raised 
aloft,  the  fist  clenched.  "  It  has  this  to  do  with  it," 
he  said.  "  Missouri  will  never  be  ruled  by  any  other 
State." 

"  Who  wants  to  rule  it  ?  "  sniffed  the  spectacles. 
"  I  wouldn't.  It  isn't  worth  it." 

The  Colonel  ignored  the  insult.  "  But  others 
are  trying  to,"  he  shouted.  "  Do  you  know  what 
they  are  saying  in  Kansas?  —  that,  if  slavery  is 
impossible  in  Missouri  with  freedom  in  Kansas,  then 
slavery  in  Missouri  must  die.  Hear  that,  madam! 
It  was  uttered  by  your  rapscallion  doctor.  He 
should  be  hanged !  —  hanged  to  the  highest  tree. 
And  he  will  be  —  he  will  be  —  if  he  is  not  shot." 

76 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Quite  possibly  he  will  be  shot,"  remarked  the 
spinster ;  and  added,  with  withering  emphasis  on  the 
last  word,  "It  is  more  than  likely  he  will  be  shot 
—  in  the  back.  You  have  introduced  that  sort  of 
thing  into  Kansas,  I  understand."  Her  voice  was 
shrill.  She  leaned  forward,  pointing  a  bony  finger. 
"  But  remember  this,  Henry !  Remember  that  for 
every  drop  of  blood  you  spill  in  Kansas  you  will 
pay  threefold.  You  will  be  made  to  regret  bitterly." 

The  Colonel  was  shaken  from  his  balance  for  only 
an  instant.  "  We  have  shed  no  blood,"  he  returned. 
"  It  is  you  who  have  done  it.  But  we  are  not  chil- 
dren to  be  frightened  by  such  talk.  We  have  the 
remedy  in  our  hands.  We  do  not  need  to  shed 
blood.  We  will  leave  you,  madam!  That  is  wha" 
we  will  do  —  leave  you  to  your  money-grabbing 
and  trafficking,  to  your  free  blacks  and  all  your 
other  iniquities  and  nonsense !  " 

Miss  Sarah's  head  went  higher.  A  bright  patch 
burned  in  her  cheeks.  She  opened  her  mouth  as 
if  to  deliver  an  outburst,  then  checked  herself.  From 
her  thin  lips  fell  five  words,  "  Henry,  you  cannot 
do  that!" 

If  some  one  had  cracked  a  whip  over  the  Colonel's 
head  it  would  not  have  made  him  jump  more  violently 
or  have  thrown  him  into  a  greater  fury.  The  dry 
precision  of  the  speech  made  it  sting  the  more.  One 
moment  he  stood  speechless,  his  eyes  blazing,  his 
face  an  apoplectic  purple.  He  put  a  hand  to  his 

77 


collar  and  plucked  at  it.  "  Good  God,  Sarah ! "  he 
cried.  "Have  you  gone  stark  mad?  If  a  State 
chooses  by  a  vote  of  its  people  to  leave  this  Union, 
do  you  imagine  it  can  be  detained?  I  have  heard 
whispers  of  such  insanity  before,  but  never  in  this 
house.  And  never  let  me  hear  it  again!  Never! 
Never!" 

The  Colonel  wheeled  about  as  if  unable  longer  to 
face  such  iniquity.  And  in  the  shadow  he  spied 
David.  There  was  a  pause. 

David  hastened  to  apologise.  "  I  have  not  been 
here  long,"  he  explained.  "  At  first  I  thought  you 
saw  me.  Then  I  did  not  wish  to  interrupt." 

It  was  a  lucky  word.  The  Colonel's  sense  of  hos- 
pitality and  shame  at  his  violence  restored  his  bal- 
ance. He  held  out  his  hand.  "  You  are  wel- 
come," he  said.  "  And  as  you  have  heard  my — er — 
recent  remarks,  sir,  you  must  also  hear  my  apology 
for  their — impetuosity — in  the  presence  of  a  lady." 
He  turned  about,  and  bowed.  "  I  ask  your  pardon 
for  my  speech,  Sarah,"  he  said.  "  It  was  some- 
what discourteous.  I  was  tried  —  tried  beyond  my 
control.  I  said  words,  I  am  afraid,  which  I  should 
not  have  employed." 

Miss  Sarah  smiled.  "  It  is  forgiven,  Henry," 
she  answered.  "  I  was  somewhat  out  of  temper 
myself,  I  suppose." 

For  a  long  time  afterward  the  scene  remained 
in  David's  recollection.  It  was  a  picture  pregnant 

78 


THE       CAPTAIN 

with  suggestion  of  a  wider  stage  and  many  actors. 
The  tall,  slender  figure  of  the  Colonel,  with  white 
hair  and  goatee,  his  lean,  proud  face  and  dark  eyes 
as  he  towered  in  indignation  and  strode  back  and 
forth,  and  the  thin,  straight-backed  person  of  Miss 
Sarah,  with  hair  brushed  smoothly  from  her  sharp 
features,  who  faced  him  with  a  spirit  which  matched 
his  own,  and  a  calmness  which  put  him  at  a  disad- 
vantage, —  these  were  typical  of  the  two  combatants 
in  the  great  contest  growing  more  violent  every 
day. 

It  deepened,  too,  the  doubt  with  which  David 
wrestled.  Fiery,  vehement,  jealous  of  his  personal 
rights,  uncompromising  in  his  distrust  or  enmity  for 
those  who,  he  imagined,  sought  to  deprive  him  of 
one  of  the  privileges  allowed  him  by  the  constitu- 
tion of  his  forefathers,  yet  gallant  and  quick  to 
repair  a  discourtesy,  the  Colonel  represented  in  their 
full  flower  the  ideals  and  principles  which  David 
had  been  taught  to  respect  and  cherish  in  the  years 
of  his  earliest  recollections,  and  which  nothing  about 
him,  until  recently,  had  contradicted.  In  the  atti- 
tude and  in  the  words  of  the  Colonel's  opponent 
he  recognised  a  power  and  purpose  which  instinct 
told  him  could  not  be  founded  on  deception,  and 
which  reason  argued  would  bring  about  a  better 
condition  of  things.  Why  could  he  not  see  further 
into  the  problem,  and  grasp  the  truth  which  he  felt 
must  lie  somewhere  between  these  two?  He  was 

79 


THE       CAPTAIN 

eager  to  know  more.  He  was  impatient  with  the 
months  which  must  elapse  before  he  could  begin 
to  gain  that  wider  view  and  that  greater  knowledge 
which  would  enable  him  to  choose  his  own  path. 

He  talked  of  his  doubts  to  the  Captain  many  times. 
His  errands  to  St.  Louis  gave  him  the  opportunity. 
The  Captain  went  there,  sometimes  twice  a  week, 
and  David  rode  with  him  on  his  wagon.  The  Cap- 
tain had  bought  two  good  horses  —  a  black  and  a 
gray  —  and  had  trained  them  and  handled  them 
himself.  Their  pulling  power  was  the  talk  of  the 
district.  Once  they  had  drawn  seventy  bushels  of 
wheat  to  the  city.  It  was  ten  miles,  and  the  road 
none  of  the  best  in  places.  The  Captain  was  very 
proud  of  them.  He  was  cutting  wood  from  his 
tract  of  land,  and  hauling  props  and  heavy  oaken 
posts  to  the  coal-mines.  He  sold  many  a  load  of 
firewood  in  St.  Louis. 

Walking  at  the  heads  of  his  team  when  the  road 
was  rough,  or  riding  on  top  of  his  lumber  beside 
David,  he  told  stories.  He  rarely  dwelt  upon  his 
own  part  in  these  exploits.  His  ideas  were  the  plain 
common  sense  of  long  experience,  in  many  places, 
among  many  men.  But  never  would  he  say  how 
he  would  decide  the  question  which  was  troubling 
his  companion.  "  Every  man  must  think  it  out  for 
himself,"  he  affirmed.  The  talk  usually  returned  to 
the  subject  of  college. 

On  one  of  these  journeys  to  St.  Louis,  the  Cap- 

80 


THE       CAPTAIN 

tain  had  dumped  his  load  of  cord-wood  into  a  cellar 
and  put  up  his  team.  David  was  to  deliver  a  letter 
for  his  uncle,  and  the  Captain,  bound  to  hunt  up 
some  of  his  army  friends,  was  walking  with  him. 
They  were  passing  the  Planters'  Hotel  when  a  voice 
hailed  them  from  the  doorway.  It  was  Major  Wil- 
kins. 

"  Captain,"  he  called,  "  dinner's  just  ready.  Come 
in  and  sit  down." 

"  No,"  was  the  answer.    "  I  won't  do  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Well,  I'm  not  dressed  for  company." 

"  What  difference  does  that  make?    Come  in." 

The  Captain  hesitated,  trailing  his  whip  on  the 
ground.  He  looked  at  his  long  blue  overcoat  and 
high  boots.  But  the  Major  insisted. 

David  said  he  had  to  go  on.  He  would  be  back 
at  the  hotel  in  an  hour.  The  Captain  yielded.  "  All 
right,"  he  said.  "  I'll  come  in,  Major."  He  dis- 
appeared in  the  doorway  coiling  his  whip,  the  Major 
sprucely  dressed,  by  his  side. 

An  hour  later,  when  David  returned,  neither  the 
Captain  nor  the  Major  was  in  sight.  A  score  of 
men  tilted  chairs  and  smoked  and  talked,  but  there 
was  no  one  he  knew.  While  he  stood  and  waited, 
his  eye  fell  on  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  man  across 
the  lobby.  Something  in  his  dark,  lean  face 
held  his  attention.  He  looked  a  little  more  steadily 
than  he  intended,  and  presently  the  other  walked 

61 


THE       CAPTAIN 

over.  "  I  ought  to  know  you,  I  guess,"  he  said. 
"  but  I  don't." 

"  No,"  said  David,  "  and  I  reckon  I  ought  to 
ask  your  pardon  for  staring  at  you." 

"  It  doesn't  matter.  My  name  is  Boone  Hadley. 
I'm  mighty  glad  to  have  the  chance  to  come  over 
and  talk.  I  don't  know  any  one  here,  though  I 
ought  to,  being  down  here  right  often." 

"  You  aren't  a  Missourian,"  said  David.  "  I  knew 
that  soon  as  you  spoke." 

The  other  laughed.  "  That's  right.  I  live  up  at 
Galena,  Illinois,  just  now.  But  I  come  from  Penn- 
sylvania. I  ought  to  speak  a  little  like  Southern  folks 
do,  though.  My  mother's  people  were  from  Vir- 
ginia." 

The  conversation  ran  easily  after  that. 

Boone  said  something  about  college.  That  au- 
tumn he  was  to  enter  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, to  study  medicine. 

It  was  David's  chance.  They  went  over  in  a 
corner  and  sat  down.  For  half  an  hour  David  lis- 
tened and  asked  questions.  The  Captain  was  for- 
gotten until,  looking  up,  he  chanced  to  see  Major 
Wilkins  come  out  of  a  side  door  and  glance  about 
him.  David  got  up.  "  I've  got  to  go,"  he  said. 
"  I'm  mighty  glad  to  learn  what  you've  told  me. 
Are  you  coming  to  St.  Louis  again  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.     Not  soon,  I  guess.     I'm 


82 


THE       CAPTAIN 

plugging  away  at  my  books  just  now.  But  there's 
some  one  beckoning  to  you." 

David  looked  over.  "That's  the  Captain,"  he 
said.  The  Captain  stood  with  Major  Wilkins, 
turning  his  slouch-hat  in  one  hand  and  striking  at  the 
floor  with  his  whip.  "  He  doesn't  size  up  to  most 
of  the  army  officers  I've  seen,"  said  Boone.  "  But  he 
looks  as  if  he  would  have  his  way  if  he  had  any 
say." 

David  did  not  repeat  this  remark  on  the  way 
home,  but  he  did  talk  about  his  new  acquaintance  and 
the  University  of  Pennsylvania.  "  I  believe  I'll  go 
there,"  he  skid.  "  I  reckon  I  wouldn't  get  along 
just  yet  with  New  England  ideas.  And  I'm  pretty 
sure  that  the  Southern  college  isn't  what  I'm  after." 

The  Captain  thought  over  the  proposition.  He 
agreed.  "  The  college  in  Philadelphia  is  a  good, 
solid  institution,  I've  always  heard,"  he  said.  "  I've 
got  a  liking,  too,  for  things  in  Pennsylvania.  My 
mother  came  from  there.  I  stopped  in  Philadelphia 
to  see  an  aunt  and  to  take  a  look  about,  I  remember, 
when  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  Point.  I  don't  believe 
you  can  do  better  than  go  there." 

Dusk  was  falling  when,  at  the  cross-roads,  they 
came  upon  a  wagon  stuck  in  the  mud.  It  was  loaded 
with  logs,  and  the  horses  were  standing  with  droop- 
ing heads.  No  one  was  in  sight. 

The  Captain  recognised  the  team.  "  It's  Tom 
White's  rig,"  he  said.  "I  wonder  where  he  is?" 

83 


THE       CAPTAIN 

He  pulled  up  and  got  down  and  walked  over  to  the 
wagon.  He  looked  at  the  load.  Then  he  called.  In 
the  dusk  a  head  was  raised  above  the  fore  part  of 
the  wagon,  and  Tom  White  answered,  "  Why,  hello, 
Captain.  I  was  busy  fixing  a  trace.  I  saw  you, 
but  I  didn't  know  you,  and  one  team's  passed  by 
already  and  hadn't  time  to  give  me  a  pull." 

"  Well,  I  have  time,"  the  Captain  said.  He  un- 
hitched his  horses  and  made  them  fast  to  the  tongue 
of  the  other  wagon.  Then  he  spoke  to  his  team. 
The  black  and  the  gray  settled  in  their  collars.  The 
wagon  lurched,  and  came  up  on  the  solid  part  of 
the  road. 

He  silently  unhitched  his  team.  But  as  White 
put  his  foot  on  the  hub  of  the  wheel,  the  Captain 
spoke.  "  You're  taking  that  load  over  for  fire-wood, 
aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  How  much  are  you  going  to  get  for  it?  " 

"  About  five  dollars." 

"  Well,  I'll  give  you  half  a  dollar  for  it.  And 
you  can  bring  it  along  to  my  place  right  now." 

White  laughed.  It  was  a  weak  laugh.  His  foot 
remained  on  the  hub  of  the  wheel. 

"  You'd  better  turn  around  and  start,"  said  the 
Captain.  "  That  is,  if  you  are  going  to  sell  me  the 
wood." 

White  hesitated.  "  Well,  I  reckon  I  will,  if  you 
don't  say  nothing  about  the  price  you  paid." 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  I  don't  intend  to  speak  of  it,"  answered  the  Cap- 
tain. "  I  want  the  wood." 

White  got  on  the  wagon,  turned  his  horses,  and 
drove  toward  Hardscrabble.  David  did  not  speak. 
He  did  not  understand.  Nor  did  the  Captain's 
manner  invite  conversation.  But,  when  White  had 
thrown  out  the  wood  behind  the  house  and  had 
driven  off  with  his  half-dollar,  the  Captain  remarked, 
"  You  don't  think  I  treated  White  squarely,  do 
you?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  returned  David.  "  The  wood  was 
worth  a  good  deal  more.  I  don't  know  why  he  sold 
it  to  you." 

"  Because  it  was  mine  to  start  with,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain, quietly.  "  It  was  cut  off  my  lot  —  down  by  the 
creek.  The  logs  had  my  mark  on  them."  There 
was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  That  half-dollar  I  gave 
him  was  for  —  the  hauling." 


A  SQUARE  PEG 
IN  A  ROUND  HOLE 

DAVID  went  to  college.  It  was  on  a  Septem- 
ber day  that  he  said  good-bye  to  Lee.  She 
drew  her  hand  from  his  slowly,  then  turned 
and  ran  up  the  steps  of  the  porch.  Something 
blurred  his  last  glimpse  of  her. 

But  the  Captain  drove  him  to  St.  Louis,  and  the 
Captain  had  stories  to  tell.  They  were  stories  of 
West  Point  and  of  college  days.  What  wonder  that, 
with  his  face  set  toward  the  east  and  the  promise 
which  it  held,  the  slim  figure  which  had  fled  so 
suddenly  slipped  from  his  mind. 

In  St.  Louis  he  parted  with  his  uncle.  He  re- 
membered longest  with  curiosity  the  crippled  body, 
propped  on  a  crutch  spread  like  the  leg  of  a  derrick. 
They  had  fought  out  the  question  of  college  long 
before,  and  few  words  passed  between  them. 

So  David  entered  upon  a  new  life  which  has  but 
small  place  here.  But  there  were  letters.  The  first 
of  these  came  back  within  a  week.  He  was  quartered 
in  a  third-story  back  room  in  a  big  house  on  Arch 

86 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Street.  Boone  Hadley  had  met  him.  He  reminded 
Lee  that  Boone  was  the  one  who  had  decided  him 
to  come  here.  And  he  believed  they  were  to  be 
good  friends.  They  were  living  together.  He  had 
been  to  the  college,  and  was  sure  he  had  made  no 
mistake. 

This  letter  found  a  resting-place  in  an  old,  folding 
mahogany  writing-desk  with  the  initials  L.  S.  inlaid 
in  mother-of-pearl  on  its  top.  There  it  was  joined 
from  time  to  time  by  letters  in  the  same  writing. 
A  day  came  when  there  seemed  to  be  no  room  left  for 
another,  and  a  slim  hand  took  them  out  and  turned 
them  over  often. 

But  David  did  not  know  this.  There  were  few 
idle  evenings  in  the  winter  months  of  those  four 
years.  His  mind  was  full  of  his  books  and  lectures, 
and  with  other  things  which  grew  to  mean  more  and 
more  to  him.  For  these  were  the  last  four  years  in 
which  a  nation  learned  the  simplest  and  most  pro- 
found of  truths,  —  that  a  principle  which  can  right- 
fully be  defended  cannot  be  compromised.  And 
those  who  were  to  guide  this  nation  and  carry  out 
its  commands  were  thinking  hard  while  they  worked 
in  the  field,  the  shop,  the  counting-room  and  office. 

In  a  little  settlement  on  the  banks  of  a  Missouri 
creek,  one  of  these  men,  in  weather-stained  and 
patched  clothing  which  he  had  once  worn  in  the 
service  of  his  country,  hauled  logs,  planted  corn,  and 
cradled  wheat,  and  in  the  evenings  sat  by  the  fire 

87 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  told  his  children  stories,  or  read  to  his  wife, 
or  played  checkers  with  a  neighbour.  His  face  was 
impassive,  his  bearded  mouth  told  little  of  what 
passed  in  his  mind.  But,  while  his  shoulders  bent 
with  work,  he  watched  and  waited,  believing  the 
time  would  come  when  he  might  be  needed.  And, 
when  it  still  did  not  come,  and  rheumatism  and  chills 
took  hold  of  him,  he  laid  aside  the  axe  and  placed  his 
few  belongings  in  a  wagon,  and  one  day  in  the 
autumn  of  1859  drove  to  the  north  to  begin  again 
the  fight  for  a  living. 

He  was  thirty-five  years  old.  He  had  education, 
energy,  ambition.  It  did  not  seem  to  him  that  his 
usefulness  could  be  ended.  With  a  hopeful  friend 
he  started  in  to  try  to  do  something  of  which  he 
knew  almost  nothing. 

David,  in  a  letter  from  Lee,  read  that  the  Captain 
was  gone  to  St.  Louis,  and  was  in  the  real  estate 
business. 

He  laid  the  letter  down  with  a  sense  of  personal 
injury.  It  was  an  ideal  gone.  He  had  always 
thought  that  the  Captain  was  to  blaze  a  path  from 
that  log  house  straight  to  success.  Now  he  seemed 
to  have  yielded  the  fight.  He  did  not  write  this  to 
Lee,  but  she  read  between  the  lines  of  his  next 
letter.  It  was  a  faculty  of  hers.  Letters  some- 
times told  her  things  which  were  not  intended.  It 
may  have  been  they  did  not  tell  her  always  what 
she  wished.  Her  own  letters  were  a  mystery  to 


THE       CAPTAIN 

her.  Days  passed  while  some  of  them  awaited 
posting.  And  sometimes  they  were  in  plain  sight 
all  the  while. 

Kitty  Marshall,  coming  in  of  an  afternoon,  spied 
such  a  letter,  and  pounced  on  it.  "  To  David !  " 
she  cried.  "  Let  me  read  it?  " 

Lee  reached  out  her  arm,  then  dropped  it  with 
a  laugh.  "  Some  other  time,"  she  said.  "  I'm  all 
ready  to  ride.  Come  on."  She  moved  toward  the 
door. 

But  Kitty  was  tying  her  hat  by  the  glass  above 
the  bureau.  Her  eyes  were  on  the  letter.  "  Oh, 
wait  till  I  read  it.  I'm  just  dying  to.  Please  let 
me." 

"  It  is  —  that  is,  I  think  it  is  sealed,"  Lee  said. 
She  hoped  it  was.  She  knew  there  was  an  unwel- 
come spot  of  colour  in  her  cheeks. 

Kitty  raised  the  envelope  and  showed  the  open 
flap.  "See,"  she  said.  "It  isn't  sealed.  May  I? 
You  don't  mind,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  you  did  not."  So  quietly  was 
it  spoken  that  a  pair  of  black  eyes  flashed  on  her 
with  awakened  suspicion.  Their  owner  laughed. 
"  What  fun !  "  she  said.  "  Why  didn't  you  give 
me  a  hint  before?  David  —  ?  Oh !  "  The  "  Oh  " 
was  a  note  of  fine  anticipation. 

It  made  Lee  stiffen.    "  Are  you  coming?  " 

"  Of  course.  But  really,  it  isn't  fair  to  me.  I 
have  known  him  as  long  as  you  have." 

89 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Lee  stood  a  moment  motionless.  She  was  not 
looking  at  Kitty.  Neither  was  she  looking  at  the 
letter.  Her  teeth  had  caught  her  under-lip,  and  her 
head  was  held  far  back.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
she  asked. 

Kitty  had  heard  her  speak. that  way  before.  She 
knew  what  it  meant.  But  the  game  was  tempting. 
She  was  a  little  aggrieved  at  her  treatment.  "  Oh, 
nothing,"  she  returned,  loftily.  "  I  reckon  I  was 
stupid  to  ask  such  a  question.  I  didn't  know  you 
wanted  to  hide  anything  —  from  me." 

"  Kitty,"  Lee  began.  Then  she  saw  her  mistake, 
and  moved  to  the  bureau.  She  stood  there,  straight 
and  tall.  She  was  pale  and  very  calm.  "If  you 
must  read  my  letter,  you  have  my  permission,"  she 
said.  "  I  am  not  hiding  anything  —  even  from  you." 
Her  eyes  were  challenging.  Kitty's  temper  got  the 
best  of  her.  "Oh,  aren't  you?"  she  laughed.  It 
was  a  light,  doubtful  laugh. 

Lee  snatched  the  letter.  "  Read  it !  "  she  cried, 
holding  it  out.  "  Read  it !  " 

The  fingers  at  the  hat-strings  twitched.  The 
prize  was  within  their  grasp.  But  the  black  eyes 
looked  at  the  letter  as  if  it  had  been  some  curio. 
"  Of  course,  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  she  returned, 
dropping  each  word  slowly. 

"  You  shall !  You  shall  read  it !  I  wish  you  to 
read  it." 

Again  came  the  taunting  laugh.     Kitty  bent  and 

90 


THE       CAPTAIN 

her  skirts  swept  the  floor.  "  No,"  she'  said.  "  I 
would  like  to  oblige  you,  Miss  Shirley,  but  there 
is  —  David.  He  must  be  considered.  And  I  had 
better  go.  Good-bye." 

She  turned  and  went  toward  the  door.  Lee  re- 
mained, the  hand  holding  the  letter  outstretched. 
She  could  not  find  the  word  to  say.  So  she  saw  her 
visitor  pass  through  the  doorway  with  head  airily 
held,  her  skirts  caught  up  jauntily.  Triumph  was 
in  every  line  of  the  trim  figure  from  the  nodding  hat 
to  the  clicking  heels. 

Lee's  breast  was  heaving.  When  she  heard  the 
clash  of  pebbles  on  the  driveway  beneath  her  win- 
dow, she  weighed  the  letter  in  her  hand.  Then  she 
caught  sight  of  herself  in  the  mirror.  Her  cheeks 
flooded,  her  eyelashes  fell.  She  opened  the  envelope, 
looked  at  the  letter  a  moment,  then  deliberately  tore 
the  eight  pages  of  paper  across  again  and  again. 

If  David  had  seen  this,  he  would  have  been  puz- 
zled. Perhaps  he  would  have  been  chagrined.  If 
he  had  matched  those  torn  pieces  of  paper  he 
would  have  been  still  more  astonished.  Letters  are 
curious  things;  yet  what  was  there  hidden  in  these 
lines  of  neighbourhood  news  and  friendly  ques- 
tions ? 

Once  he  had  written  of  a  certain  letter  of  hers, 
"  It  was  bully.  It  had  so  much  in  it  about  the  people 
.  we  know.  I  sat  and  smoked,  and  saw  them  all. 
Write  me  some  more  like  that,  won't  you  ?  " 

9' 


THE       CAPTAIN 

So  she  had  written.  After  a  time  he  noticed  that 
some  of  these  letters  were  very  brief.  But  they 
were  what  he  asked  for,  and  he  was  satisfied  — 
with*  all  but  one. 

In  that  she  talked  of  a  party  at  Kitty  Marshall's 
house.  There  was  something,'  too,  about  Oswald's 
slavish  attendance  on  his  hostess,  a  dozen  lines  of 
mystery  about  the  dress  the  writer  wore.  Toward 
the  end  a  reference  slipped  in  to  a  stranger,  a 
Mississippi  man,  a  friend  of  Nina  Rennert's.  He 
had  chestnut  hair  that  curled,  and  was  awfully  good- 
looking,  and  was  very,  very  —  foolish.  Had  he  not 
chosen  to  be  a  spectator  whenever  he  was  not  danc- 
ing with  her?  A  thing  unheard  of,  was  it  not? 

David  agreed.  Then  he  read  the  passage  again. 
Afterward,  he  laid  the  letter  in  his  lap  and  began  to 
smoke. 

He  woke  to  his  surroundings  to  find  himself  star- 
ing at  the  little  air-tight  stove  in  the  far  corner  of 
his  room.  He  did  not  understand.  But  he  forgot 
all  about  it  until  he  wrote  her.  Then  he  chanced  to 
ask  the  name  of  the  foolish  man.  In  her  reply  she 
did  not  remember  to  answer,  but  she  did  recall  a 
detail  or  two  of  what  happened  on  that  memorable 
night. 

David  did  not  repeat  his  inquiry. 

When  he  came  home  it  was  to  find  few  changes. 
In  his  uncle's  house  there  was  now  and  then  a 
visitor  whom  he  had  not  seen  before,  a  man  from 

92 


THE       CAPTAIN 

New  Orleans,  —  a  cotton-grower ,  he  was  told :  once 
or  twice  Tom  White,  slouching,  but  less  loquacious. 
These  visits,  it  seemed,  had  to  do  with  the  invest- 
ment which  Mr.  Mayhew  had  made  in  cotton  in 
Mississippi.  He  vouchsafed  that  he  expected  great 
things  of  it. 

David  gave  it  no  thought.  His  uncle  and  he  grew 
further  apart  each  day.  He  felt  more  ill  at  ease 
and  restless.  He  missed  the  Captain's  grave  face. 
And  there  were  things  of  which  he  would  never  have 
spoken  to  Lee  had  she  not  guessed  at  them.  Even 
when  she  did,  he  found  himself  at  a  loss  to  explain. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  asked  one  day. 

He  had  fallen  to  staring  at  the  ground  as  they 
walked  together.  He  started  at  the  question.  But 
he  answered,  openly,  "  I  don't  know.  You'll  have 
to  forgive  me.  It  was  stupid." 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  it  wasn't.    Tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  I  wish  I  could.  But  I  can't  exactly.  I  reckon 
I  have  changed  some.  I  must  wake  up.  Perhaps 
it  is  because  things  are  somehow  different  here  from 
the  way  they  are  where  I've  been." 

"  And  not  just  what  you  care  for  any  more  ?  " 
She  lingered  wistfully  on  the  last  word.  It  did  not 
escape  him.  He  shook  himself. 

"  No,  no,"  he  protested,  loyally.  "  Of  course,  it 
isn't  that.  You  know  it  isn't.  It's  —  well  —  oh,  I 
don't  know  what.  Let's  talk  of  something  more 
cheerful."  She  looked  at  him  curiously,  but  she  made 

93 


THE       CAPTAIN 

no  reply.  "  Now,  there  you  are,"  he  went  on,  gaily. 
"  Do  you  know,  you  took  my  breath  away  when  I 
first  saw  you  —  this  time." 

"No,"  she  answered.  "Truly?  How  dreadful! 
Do  I  look  so  dangerous  ?  '  What  sharp  teeth  you 
have,  grandmother!  And  how  long  your  claws 
are! '  Never  mind,  I  will  spare  you." 

"Oh,  I  am  safe,"  he  returned.  "We  are  old 
friends.  But  there  are  other  people,  and  you  are 
dangerous,  L»ee.  Don't  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  You  are  the  first  one  to  say  so,"  she  declared. 
But  her  eyes  were  lowered.  Suddenly  he  was  more 
sure  of  the  truth  of  his  warning.  How  straight 
and  tall  she  was !  And  the  gracious  promise  of  her 
figure!  The  poke-bonnet  hid  her  face  now.  He 
wished  he  might  see  under  its  tilt.  But  she  was 
lifting  the  hem  of  her  gown,  and  refused  him  the 
glimpse.  Then,  just  as  he  was  forgetting  his  wish, 
she  spoke.  "  David,  my  shoe  is  untied."  He  bent 
down  quickly,  and  the  slender  arch  of  instep  which 
slipped  out  and  waited  his  ministrations  gave  him 
a  queer  start.  He  bungled  the  tying  badly.  When 
he  looked  up,  the  gray  eyes  sparkled  mischievously 
in  the  shadow  of  the  bonnet.  "  I  reckon,  David,  at 
college  you  had  not  much  practice  in  waiting  on 
ladies,"  she  said,  sorrowfully. 

He  surprised  himself.  "  It  wouldn't  have  helped 
me  just  now  if  I  had  had,"  he  answered. 


94 


THE       CAPTAIN 

She  held  up  a  rebuking  finger.  "  Why !  That 
is  flattery.  I  must  be  careful." 

He  rose  without  replying.  Though  she  stole 
a  glance  at  him  twice,  he  did  not  look  at  her. 

But  there  are  some  pictures  we  never  forget.  For 
David,  one  of  these  was  Lee  in  her  white  gown,  the 
skirt  billowing  from  her  slender  waist,  the  sleeves 
slipped  back  from  the  softly  rounded  arms,  a  loose 
curl  escaping  from  the  poke-bonnet  to  blow  across 
her  eyes  and  help  to  hide  her  face  from  him. 

The  Captain  asked  after  her  almost  as  soon  as 
David  found  him  in  St.  Louis.  It  was  easy  to  find 
the  Captain's  place  of  business.  There  were  few 
people  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Pine  Street  who  did 
not  know  him  by  sight.  The  brick  house  had  a  sign 
over  the  door,  and  two  windows  on  the  pavement. 
The  Captain  was  at  his  desk,  close  to  one  of  these, 
his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  when  David  came  in.  He 
sprang  up  and  gave  him  his  hand.  "  You  see,  I'm 
the  lookout,"  he  said.  "  Hillyer's  away.  Trying 
to  collect  a  rent  I  made  a  bungle  of.  We  can't 
afford  to  let  any  customers  go  by.  Here  I  can  reach 
through  the  window  and  hold  on  to  them  till  some- 
body gets  outside."  David  joined  in  the  laugh,  but 
perceived  a  good  deal  of  bitter  fact  behind  the  joke. 
The  two  rooms  had  a  bare,  unprofitable  look. 

The  Captain  was  like  the  rooms.  His  shoulders 
stooped,  his  figure  slouched  when  he  did  not  re- 


95 


THE       CAPTAIN 

member  to  stiffen  it.  To  his  visitor  he  seemed  a 
trifle  heavier  than  when  he  saw  him  last.  But  the- 
old  vigour  and  elasticity  were  missing.  The  familiar 
habit  of  dropping  his  head  slightly  to  one  side  now 
hinted  of  weariness.  His  beard  was  closely  trimmed 
and  his  hair  brushed  back  and  parted  so  that  it 
rolled  thickly,  and  exposed  the  lines  in  his  face  and 
brought  out  the  soberness  which  was  almost  dejec- 
tion in  his  eyes  and  mouth. 

David  went  home  to  supper  with  him,  but  all 
the  while  was  thinking  of  the  days  on  the  Gravois ; 
of  the  building  of  the  log  house;  of  the  Captain 
sturdily  walking  by  his  wagon,  the  tails  of  the  long 
blue  overcoat  flapping  about  his  boot-tops.  This 
hardly  seemed  to  be  the  same  man. 

The  Captain's  house  was  near  the  river,  and  the 
neighbours  were  not  prepossessing.  But  the  welcome 
was  warm,  and  there  was  plenty  of  supper,  if  it 
was  plain.  Afterward,  they  sat  on  the  door-step. 
The  Captain  smoked  a  cigar.  He  pulled  on  it  with 
relish,  gripping  it  firmly  with  his  teeth.  Then  he 
made  his  first  remark  about  the  house.  "  Not  quite 
as  much  room  as  out  Gravois  way.  I  want  more. 
We're  going  to.  have  it.  I  shall  rent  Hardscrabble, 
and  move,  in  a  couple  of  weeks.  We'll  do  well  — 
Hillyer  and  I  —  in  time,  I  reckon."  It  was  the 
courage  and  faith  of  the  old  days,  but  it  was  only 
a  flash.  He  spoke  little  of  what  he  had  been  doing. 


THE       CAPTAIN 

He  talked  of  politics  guardedly,  but  it  was  plain 
that  he  was  beginning  to  look  on  Mr.  Douglas  as  the 
man  of  the  hour.  David  went  away  with  pity  in 
his  heart. 

Something  of  this  was  in  his  voice  when  he  spoke 
of  the  Captain  to  Doctor  Shirley  one  evening  a 
couple  of  months  later.  He  was  waiting  for  Lee, 
who  was  going  with  him  to  Kitty  Marshall's.  They 
were  in  the  library.  The  Doctor,  though  it  was 
a  i^lld  night,  had  a  blaze  in  the  fireplace,  and  sat 
beside  it  with  feet  outstretched.  He  looked  older. 
His  thin  face  above  the  flaring  collar  and  broad  tie 
seemed  almost  pinched,  and  there  were  hollows  be- 
neath his  eyes. 

But  his  voice  was  clear.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "the 
Captain  is  having  his  hard  times.  You  know  he 
failed  to  get  the  county  engineer's  office  ?  " 

David  leaned  forward  quickly.  "  I  did  not  even 
know  he  had  applied  for  it.  He  is  in  the  real  estate 
business." 

"  Yes,  but  I  believe  he  will  soon  withdraw  from 
that.  It  has  not  been  a  success.  There  was  to  be 
a  vacancy  in  the  county  engineer's  office  this  month. 
He  applied  for  it.  I  was  glad  to  indorse  his  appli- 
cation. But  somehow  —  the  place  went  to  another 
man.  I  tell  you  that  was  wrong.  The  Captain 
should  have  had  it." 

But  if  David  had  not  known  of  this,  Mr,  Mayhew 


97 


THE       CAPTAIN 

was  better  informed.  He  alluded  to  it  a  few  days 
later.  "  He  seems  to  be  always  doing  the  wrong 
thing,"  he  added. 

David  sprang  to  the  Captain's  defence.  Mr. 
Mayhew  smiled  at  his  heat.  "  Perhaps,"  he  said, 
"  perhaps  he  has  only  to  find  his  groove.  But  he's 
a  long  time  finding  it.  He  has  not  been  wise,  either. 
He  kept  up  his  visits  to  the  office  of  the  Democrat 
until  he  lost  a  good  many  dollars.  He  acted  foolishly 
about  his  niggers,  too.  When  he  left  here,  he  sold 
all  of  them  except  that  big  red-headed  fellow,  — 
Sandy.  He  offered  to  give  him  away.  Nobody  he 
went  to  wanted  him.  I  heard  he  said  he  wouldn't 
sell  him  because  the  man  wasn't  worth  anything  to 
anybody  unless  the  whip  was  used  on  him,  and  he 
wouldn't  have  that." 

David  recalled  what  they  used  to  say  about  the 
Captain's  incapacity  to  handle  slaves.  His  leniency 
wore  another  coat  now.  Again  he  realised  how, 
unconsciously,  his  point  of  view  had  shifted,  but 
a  lingering  uncertainty  restrained  him  from  saying 
what  he  thought. 

Mr.  Mayhew  went  on  with  half-closed  eyes,  "  His 
scruples  didn't  hold  out,  though.  He  sold  Sandy 
—  quickly  enough,  at  last.  He  sold  him  to  me.  I 
suppose  it  was  because  he  knew  I  never  use  the 
whip,"  he  reflected.  His  eyelids  quivered  slightly. 
The  shadow  of  a  smile  was  on  his  lips.  "  It  was 


98 


THE       CAPTAIN 

fortunate  for  the  Captain,"  he  finished ;  "  he  was 
able  to  stick  to  his  principles,  you  see  —  after  a 
fashion  —  and  turn  an  honest  penny,  too." 

"  He  probably  needed  the  money,"  David  sug- 
gested. 

"  He  probably  did.  And  I  wanted  Sandy.  I  have 
use  for  him.  He  is  tractable  enough  with  me." 
Then  Mr.  Mayhew  began  to  talk  of  his  cotton-trad- 
ing. This  was  demanding  much  attention.  He 
spoke  of  the  correspondence  it  entailed.  "  I  hope 
you  will  take  an  interest  in  it,  David,  later  on.  You 
must  be  my  legs  —  when  you  leave  college.  This 
business  calls  for  quickness  and  discretion.  It  is 
growing.  Cotton  may  be  worth  a  great  deal  some 
day." 

David  agreed  mechanically.  The  prospect  did  not 
please  him.  He  had  no  liking  for  trading  of  any 
kind.  But  he  did  not  say  so.  There  was  time 
enough  for  that.  He  had  not  yet  made  up  his  mind 
where  or  how  to  begin  work  when  he  left  college. 
But  he  knew  that  he  would,  when  the  time  came. 
He  had  a  calm  confidence  which  was  almost  a 
philosophy.  So  he  sat  listening,  now  and  then  mak- 
ing a  reply,  and  presently  found  that  it  was  after  all 
the  question  of  abolition  of  which  Mr.  Mayhew  was 
talking. 

Thinking  it  over  afterward,  he  was  surprised  at 
some  things  he  had  said.  Did  he  really  believe  that 


99 


THE       CAPTAIN 

abolition  had  a  chance  to  win?  And  had  he  made 
that  statement  about  State  rights  ?  When  he  picked 
up  the  conversation  piece  by  piece,  he  realised  that 
a  good  many  opinions  had  been  drawn  out  of  him 
which  hitherto  he  had  kept  to  himself. 


TOO 


VI 

ABOUT  A 
STORY-TELLER 

THERE  was  a  girl  in  the  South.  David 
learned  that  a  few  evenings  after  his  return 
to  college.  Boone  had  met  her  at  a  house- 
party  outside  of  Baltimore  that  summer.  He  did 
not  tell  her  name.  In  fact,  his  mention  of  her  slipped 
out  almost  unconsciously.  But  his  dark  eyes  glowed, 
and  he  said  a  few  words  that  left  no  doubt  as  to 
his  feelings.  David  reached  over  and  gripped  his 
hand.  "  Now,  you  must  have  that  sheepskin,"  he 
said. 

"  I  want  to  hang  out  my  shingle  in  Galena  this 
summer,"  Boone  answered. 

"  But  there'll  be  a  '  Mrs.  Doctor  '  ?  " 

"  Well,  hardly  yet.  You  see,"  he  went  on,  a 
little  awkwardly,  "  it  isn't  just  settled.  By  the  way, 
I  would  rather  you  didn't  say  anything  about  it. 
The  fact  is  —  well,  she  doesn't  know  what  my  plans 
are,  though  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she  had  some 
notion  of  them."  He  laughed. 

After  that,  the  girl  from  the  South  figured  in 

101 


THE       CAPTAIN 

a  good  many  conversations  which  started  on  foreign 
subjects.  But  her  name  was  not  disclosed.  Boone 
was  reticent  about  some  things.  For  all  the  honesty 
and  confidence  in  others  which  exactly  fitted  his 
big  frame  and  strong  open  face,  he  said  little  about 
his  people  or  the  place  he  came  from.  Once  he  had 
shown  a  miniature  in  a  worn  locket  of  gold.  It 
was  the  face  of  a  dark-eyed,  dark-haired  woman,  in 
whose  features  was  to  be  recognised  a  likeness.  But 
Boone  simply  said,  "  My  mother,"  very  tenderly, 
"  she  died  when  I  was  born,"  and  closed  the  locket 
and  put  it  away. 

David  knew  that  Boone's  father  was  an  Illinois 
man  who  had  made  and  lost  a  small  fortune  in 
lead  mining,  and  was  not  always  in  sympathy  with 
his  son.  Boone  was  putting  himself  through  college 
largely  by  outside  work. 

He  liked  him  better  with  every  day.  The  room 
would  seem  very  empty  when  the  big  fellow  was 
not  there  of  evenings  to  fill  the 'rocker  by  the  fire, 
with  a  long  leg  hanging  over  an  arm  of  the  chair, 
and  his  pipe  puffing  clouds  of  smoke.  They  had 
fought  out  a  good  many  battles  together.  But  they 
were  better  friends  with  every  contest. 

For  one  thing,  they  had  never  been  able  to  agree 
on  politics.  Boone  was  a  straight-out  abolitionist. 
He  execrated  the  Democratic  party,  he  had  little 
patience  with  Mr.  Douglas,  though  admitting  his 
eloquence.  During  that  last  year  at  college,  David 

IO2 


THE       CAPTAIN 

tackled  him  again  and  again,  but  he  budged  not  an 
inch.  He  returned  the  fire  with  a  vigour  and  direct- 
ness which  often,  after  he  had  banged  the  door  and 
stamped  off,  left  behind  him  a  cloud  of  smoke  and 
a  thicker  cloud  of  doubt. 

So  the  winter  went  by,  and  Boone,  the  coveted 
parchment  in  his  pocket,  left  for  home  in  the  spring. 
David  came  back  to  college  to  find  awaiting  him  a 
letter  from  the  Springs  mentioning  that  the  Mis- 
sissippi man  of  earlier  acquaintance  was  there.  His 
stay  was  indefinite.  The  writer  drew  a  picture  of 
him.  David  studied  it  carefully.  He  decided  that 
it  lacked  detail. 

Then,  his  serious  attention  struck  him  comically, 
and  he  managed  a  smile  whenever  recollection  of  it 
thrust  itself  upon  him  that  winter. 

But  .there  was  something  else  over  which  he  knit 
his  brows.  It  was  the  spring  of  1860,  and  with 
every  day  he  realised  more  keenly  how  strong  a  hold 
the  Great  Question  had  taken  on  him.  He  knew 
what  he  wished  to  believe,  but  something  stubbornly 
resisted  this  inclination.  Always  a  fight  was  going 
on  between  his  ideals  and  his  inquisitive  brain  which 
prodded  him,  appealing  to  his  common  sense. 

Douglas  was  the  hero  of  his  affections.  Burning 
phrases  recurred  to  him  —  phrases  of  adjuration, 
command,  prophecy.  Their  swelling  intonation  re- 
echoed and  charmed  his  senses.  It  fired  his  enthu- 
siasm. But  ever  another  voice  followed.  —  a  calm, 

103 


THE       CAPTAIN 

clear  voice,  one  he  had  never  heard,  but  which  he 
felt  he  would  know  instantly  by  the  words  which  it 
had  spoken. 

These  words  knit  themselves  into  vigorous,  honest 
statements.  Many  of  them  occurred  in  stories. 
Some  of  the  stories  made  him  smile.  Some  touched 
his  heart.  If  they  did  not  tickle  the  ear,  they  stuck 
in  the  mind.  He  turned  them  over  many  times, 
and  with  each  turning  they  sank  deeper.  Some  of 
them  he  had  read  in  the  newspapers.  Some  of  them 
had  been  repeated  to  him.  They  were  spoken  by  a 
man  named  Lincoln,  the  man  who  had  run  against 
Douglas  for  United  States  Senator. 

He  recalled  a  story  which  this  Lincoln  had  told. 
It  brought  in  the  name  of  Douglas.  He  laughed 
as  it  repeated  itself  to  him. 

Some  one  from  the  crowd  below  the  little  table 
where  Lincoln  stood  had  said  he  had  always  voted 
the  Democratic  ticket,  and  would  go  on  doing  it. 
Once  you  were  sure  of  your  mind,  you  ought  to 
go  straight  ahead  behind  one  leader. 

"  That  reminds  me,"  said  Lincoln,  "  of  a  little 
thing  that  happened  back  in  Illinois.  There  was  a 
boy  ploughing  new  land  on  the  prairie,  and  he  asked 
his  father  to  tell  him  which  way  he  was  to  strike  the 
first  furrow.  '  Oh,'  said  the  father,  '  you  see  that 
yoke  of  oxen  standing  over  there  at  the  far  end 
of  the  field?  You  steer  for  them.'  'All  right,' 
says  the  boy,  *  I  will.'  Then  the  father  went  away, 

IO4 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  the  boy  started  in.  He  kept  his  eyes  open  and 
steered  for  the  oxen.  He  never  swerved  once.  But, 
by  and  by,  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  a  thundering 
long  way  to  those  oxen,  and  he  was  just  going  to 
stop  when  he  saw  that  he  was  coming  up  with  them. 
When  he  got  close  to  them,  he  stopped.  And  then  he 
began  to  notice  things.  He  looked  back  and  he  saw 
that  the  furrow  he'd  been  ploughing  wasn't  straight 
at  all.  It  wobbled  every  which  way,  and  it  didn't 
seem  to  lead  anywhere.  Then  it  struck  him  that 
things  looked  mighty  familiar  somehow.  But  he 
didn't  let  this  worry  him  a  bit.  No,  sir.  He'd  done 
what  he'd  said  he'd  do,  —  steered  for  the  oxen. 
He'd  done  it,  and  he  hadn't  swerved  once.  It  wasn't 
his  lookout  that  the  oxen  had  been  walking  round 
the  field  all  the  time,  and  come  back  right  to  where 
they  started  from." 

David  wished  he  might  hear  Lincoln  tell  that  story. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  spoiled  in  the  telling.  Then  it 
wouldn't  come  back  to  bother  him. 

Some  day  he  intended  to  ask  the  Captain  about 
the  man  who  told  it. 

But  in  April,  in  a  letter  from  Mr.  Mayhew,  was 
the  news  that  the  Captain  had  left  St.  Louis.  He 
had  obtained  a  small  place  in  the  St.  Louis  custom- 
house, and  lost  it  in  a  month.  Then  he  walked  the 
streets  and  asked  for  work  of  any  kind,  and  nobody 
wanted  him.  The  month  previous  he  had  made 
another  application  for  a  position  in  the  county 

105 


THE       CAPTAIN 

engineer's  office.  It  came  to  nothing.  After  that, 
so  Mr.  Mayhew  had  heard,  he  applied  to  his 
father,  and  was  told  he  could  go  to  Galena  and 
see  what  he  could  do  in  the  leather  store  there. 
"  The  chance  was  given  him  out  of  pity,  I  suppose," 
the  writer  added.  "  It  is  the  last  probably  we  will 
hear  of  him.  Yet  we  must  not  despise  him,  David. 
The  world  is  always  hard  on  failures.  The  more 
I  read  my  Bible  the  more  it  is  borne  in  on  me  that 
charity  is  the  greatest  virtue.  The  humblest  may 
rise  again.  Remember,  Simon  was  the  son  of  a 
tanner ! " 

A  subtle  repugnance  made  David  tear  the  letter 
into  pieces.  But  its  closing  words  he  could  not 
iorget. 

The  story  of  the  Captain's  arrival  at  Galena  was 
commonplace  enough.  Boone  told  about  it  a  few 
weeks  later  when  he  met  David  in  St.  Louis. 

"  I  was  on  the  wharf  when  the  Captain  came  in," 
he  said.  "  The  Captain  wore  that  same  old  coat. 
There  were  a  lot  of  bags  and  bundles  about  him. 
He  came  ashore  with  his  hands  full.  His  wife  and 
four  children  were  with  him.  He  didn't  look  well. 
He  walked  firmly  enough,  but  his  shoulders  are 
stooping.  He  looked  like  a  common  soldier  who 
had  seen  a  lot  of  hard  service  in  a  bad  climate.  He 
didn't  seem  to  know  anybody  in  particular.  There 
was  a  crowd  on  the  wharf.  I  soon  lost  sight  of  him. 
I  don't  know  just  where  he's  living,  but  I  am  going 

1 06 


THE       CAPTAIN 

to  make  his  acquaintance  by  and  by,  if  he'll  let 
me.  Maybe  he  wants  —  a  family  physician." 

He  looked  more  gaunt  than  ever.  His  eyes  were 
deep  in  the  sockets.  The  angles  of  his  jaw  and  the 
cheek-bones  were  prominent.  But  he  laughed  at 
the  warning  that  he  was  working  too  hard,  and  his 
dark  eyes  were  brilliant.  "  Not  hard  enough,  you 
mean,"  he  returned.  "  They  won't  let  me.  At 
least,  they  don't  give  me  the  work  to  do  —  except 
hospital  cases.  My  '  private  '  practice  is  extensive, 
but  I  am  like  the  country  e'ditor.  Pay  comes  in 
everything  but  what  my  creditors  want.  The  other 
day  I  spent  the  night  working  over  a  woman.  Her 
husband  was  a  splendid  fellow.  He  very  nearly 
shook  my  arm  off  when  I  left.  And  he  gave  me 
this  bank-note.  It's  from  a  State  bank,  you  see.  So 
far  I've  had  one  offer  for  it.  It  was  a  trade,  and 
came  from  another  of  my  '  private '  patients.  He 
is  collecting  notes  issued  by  the  State  banks  which 
nobody  will  redeem.  He  said  he  had  duplicates  of 
one  of  them,  and  would  exchange  with  me." 

He  laughed  at  the  recollection.  "  The  only  thing 
for  me  to  do  is  to  make  it  the  nucleus  for  a  bank-note 
museum,  I  reckon,"  he  finished. 

The  philosophy  was  contagious.  David  laughed 
at  him.  "  But  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  have 
many  cases  as  bad  as  that  ?  " 

Boone  waved  the  stem  of  his  pipe  in  the  air. 
"  My  son,"  he  said,  "  that  is  an  unusually  prom- 

107 


THE       CAPTAIN 

ising  case.  I  pocketed  the  fee  and  thanked  the 
donor.  I  will  probably  continue  to  be  family  phy- 
sician for  that  household.  And  some  day  he  will 
make  the  mistake  of  giving  me  a  bank-note  worth 
nearly  its  face  value."  His  eyes  twinkled.  Then, 
with  immense  satisfaction,  "  I  saved  the  woman, 
remember." 

David,  looking  at  him  as  he  sat  nursing  the  pipe 
on  one  knee  in  his  strong,  thin  hands,  said  nothing; 
but  he  felt  his  heart  go  out  to  this  big  fellow.  There 
was  that  in  the  rugged  face  which  reminded  him 
of  the  Captain.  It  was  the  stamp  of  honesty  and 
will-power,  he  decided.  And  something  else  —  the 
lines  made  by  hard  work  and  —  yes  —  disappoint- 
ment. Into  his  head  flashed  "  the  girl  from  the 
South." 

But  he  asked  no  question  about  her  then,  and 
Boone  said  nothing.  Before  he  left  the  following 
day,  however,  he  understood  that  there  had  been 
a  visit  to  the  girl's  home,  and  that  something  had 
happened.  He  never  learned  what  this  was,  and 
for  many  months  neither  he  nor  Boone  alluded  to  it. 

Those  were  the  months  in  which  the  great  fight 
for  the  Presidency  came  to  a  head.  Breckenridge 
had  been  nominated,  Bell  had  been  nominated.  Doug- 
las had  been  nominated  —  Abraham  Lincoln  had 
been  nominated.  The  two  great  parties  —  the  North 
and  the  South,  it  was  now  —  were  closing  up  their 
lines.  Bigger  on  the  horizon  each  day  loomed  a 

1 08 


THE       CAPTAIN 

tall,  lank  man :  a  man  who  told  stories  which  made 
people  laugh  or  rub  their  eyes;  who  seemed  never 
weary,  though  working  night  and  day :  a  man  who 
heard  more  clearly  than  any  other  the  threat  that 
swelled  louder  and  louder  from  the  South,  and  who 
knew  that  death  would  ambush  every  step  he  took 
toward  the  place  for  which  he  had  offered  himself; 
yet  whose  earnest,  kindly  eyes  never  wavered. 

What  was  it  which  drew  David  toward  that 
homely  figure?  A  thousand  times  he  asked  him- 
self this,  and  often  rebelled  against  the  influence. 
But  always  it  drew  him  closer.  Then  in  one  hour 
he  knew.  It  was  Truth,  —  the  truth  of  honesty  and 
right. 

But  before  this  Lee  came  home,  and  he  discovered 
for  himself  that,  if  he  had  ever  known  her,  he  had 
now  many  things  to  learn.  She  was  infinitely  far 
from  him  at  times,  and  yet  tantalisingly  near.  One 
morning  in  September  arrived  a  note  from  her. 

"  DEAR  DAVID  :  —  I  shall  ride  this  afternoon  at 
three  o'clock.  Dick  needs  exercise.  You  can  come 
along  if  you  wish  to  very  much. 

"  LEE." 

"  I  am  going  to  St.  Louis  this  afternoon,"  said 
David  to  himself.  "  I  will  ride  around  and  tell 
her  so."  But  at  half-past  two  o'clock,  in  the  riding- 
clothes  he  had  brought  from  the  East,  he  came  out 

109 


THE       CAPTAIN 

upon  the  Gravois  road,  a  straight,  strong  figure 
in  the  saddle,  and  he  promptly  turned  his  back  on  St. 
Louis.  It  must  have  been  self-denial  which  put  him 
in  excellent  spirits. 

He  swung  along  at  an  easy  pace,  and  turned 
between  the  gateposts  at  Doctor  Shirley's  place 
with  a  welcome  on  his  clean-shaven  face  for  the  big 
house  which  stood  on  a  gentle  rise  in  a  circle  of 
locust-trees  at  the  end  of  the  elm-shaded  drive. 
There  was  dignity  and  an  ample  hospitality  in  its 
porch  and  gallery,  its  wide-open  doors,  and  its  walls 
cooled  by  the  vines  which  clambered  into  the  laps 
of  the  windows  and  wreathed  the  chimneys  to  their 
tops.  Back  of  it  was  the  whitewashed  kitchen  with 
flaking  walls.  Beyond  this,  where  the  ground  fell 
away  in  rolling  reaches  toward  the  east,  were  the 
cabins  of  the  quarter;  at  one  side,  among  gnarled 
orchard-trees,  the  spring-house,  shoulder-high  above 
the  grass.  Further  east  the  meadows  began,  now 
bathed  in  the  blue  mist  and  yellow  sunshine  of 
an  autumn  afternoon.  The  peace  of  it  entered  into 
David's  soul.  There  had  never  been  another  place 
like  this  to  him,  there  never  would  be.  Here  was 
his  home.  And  this  was  the  South  in  all  its  habits 
at  least.  A  bitter  distrust  of  those  who  would  break 
in  upon  this  peace  welled  in  his  heart.  What  right 
had  they? 

He  pulled  up  his  horse  at  the  mounting-block. 
There  was  no  one  in  sight.  He  waited  a  little  while, 

IIO 


THE       CAPTAIN 

then  whistled;  but  drew  only  an  echo.  Again  he 
whistled  without  an  answer.  Then  he  smiled  at 
the  open  doors,  and  rode  slowly  down  to  the  gate. 
He  was  aware  that  a  departing  back  often  wrought 
wonders. 

Yet  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  drive,  listening  over 
his  shoulder  in  vain.  So  he  turned  back  toward  the 
house.  His  horse  threw  up  its  head  and  strained 
at  the  bridle.  But  he  was  at  the  mounting-block  once 
more,  and  a  line  was  drawn  between  his  eyes  when, 
from  the  dimness  of  the  hall,  came  a  little  cry,  "  Oh, 
so  you  are  there  at  last !  "  And  on  to  the  porch, 
in  all  the  trim  propriety  of  riding-habit,  stepped  the 
figure  which  his  eyes  had  been  seeking  for  the  quar- 
ter-hour past. 

Holding  her  fine  shoulders  so  proudly  that  she 
seemed  a  head  above  her  stature,  her  eyes  shaded 
by  a  wide  hat,  against  which  the  curling  brown  hair 
was  in  rebellion,  her  skirt  caught  up  in  a  slender 
hand  so  that  David  perceived  that  these  were  new 
boots,  she  came  to  the  porch's  edge. 

"  Well,"  she  asked,  "  what  have  you  to  say?  " 

"  To  say?  "  he  answered.  "  Me?  You  ought  to 
be  the  one  to  say  something.  You  told  me  to  be 
here  —  " 

"  At  three  o'clock.    It  is  now  quarter  past." 

"Well?" 

The  gray  eyes  were  stern,  the  mouth  commanding.' 

He  should  have  been  impressed.  But  he  felt 

III 


THE       CAPTAIN 

neither  contrition  nor  fear.  In  fact,  he  was  enjoying 
the  poise  of  her  head.  Her  low-spoken  "  I  am 
waiting,  David,"  made  him  start. 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  he  said,  laughing.  He  slid  from 
his  horse,  and  extended  a  hand.  "  Of  course  it 
was  you  who  were  waiting,"  he  conceded. 

"  I  was,  but  not  to  ride  with  you,"  she  retorted. 
"  That  is,  not  until  you  tell  why  you  were  late." 

"  I  wasn't  late,"  he  returned,  a  little  nettled.  "  I 
have  been  here  fifteen  minutes  and  more.  I 
whistled  —  " 

"  Now,  David." 

"  I  did  —  half  a  dozen  times." 

"  Think  again.    Wasn't  it  only  twice  ?  " 

His  lips  straightened.  "  So  you  did  hear  me. 
Why  didn't  you  answer?" 

"  It  isn't  exactly  polite  for  ladies  to  whistle,  is 
it?"  she  queried.  "  Besides,  how  could  I  tell  who 
it  was.  Lots  of  people  know  how  to  whistle." 

His  hand  dropped.  He  regarded  her  with  grave 
eyes. 

"  Don't  they,  David  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Don't  lots  of 
people  know  how  to  whistle?  " 

Suddenly  the  steady  gaze  baffled  her.  Her  lashes 
were  lowered.  "  Anyway,"  she  said,  softly,  "  I 
might  have  thought  it  was  a  bird.  It  was  so  sweet, 
David." 

He  tried  to  hold  his  sternness.  It  escaped  him, 
and  she  knew  it. 

112 


THE       CAPTAIN 

''If  you  are  going  to  amuse  yourself  with  me  all 
afternoon,"  he  said,  "  perhaps  you  will  let  me  come 
up  on  the  porch." 

She  looked  up.  "  Oh,  no,"  she  answered,  "  I  am 
going  riding.  I  told  you  I  was  waiting.  How 
tired  poor  Dick  must  be.  Will  you  get  him  for 
me?" 

He  turned  and  walked  along  the  drive  toward 
the  stable.  She  tossed  a  hand  to  him.  But  her 
eyes  followed  him  until  he  had  turned  a  corner. 
When  he  was  back  again  she  put  a  foot  on  his  hand 
and  her  fingers  touched  his  shoulder.  She  was  in 
the  saddle  and  moving  away  with  a  warning,  "  Don't 
take  root,  David !  "  before  he  had  picked  up  the 
riding-switch  which  she  dropped  at  his  feet. 
She  waved  to  him  from  between  the  gateposts  as 
he  reached  the  saddle  and  spoke  to  his  horse.  But 
the  sorrel  mare  he  rode  had  the  heels  of  Dick, 
and  half  a  mile  away  she  slackened  speed  as  he 
ranged  up  beside  her. 

"  I  told  you  Dick  needed  exercise,"  she  remarked, 
"  but  I  don't  care  to  have  him  run  off  his  legs. 
Let's  walk  for  awhile." 

It  had  rained  the  night  before.  Every  leaf  was 
clean  washed,  the  uncut  corn  made  a  hedge  of 
rusty  gold  and  green  upon  the  right,  a  stubble  of 
wheat  spread  itself  down  the  slope,  toward  the 
gullied  bank  of  the  Gravois.  A  film  of  smoke  ahead 


THE       CAPTAIN 

told  of  the  river  beyond  ceaselessly  rolling  its  yellow 
breast  to  the  south. 

David's  eyes  noted  the  smoke.  His  mind  filled  in 
the  picture  of  the  swift  craft  below,  loaded  to  her 
guards  with  the  cargo  which  she  was  carrying 
to  the  wharves  above  with  their  crowding  ware- 
houses and  all  the  dirt  and  noise  of  the  city  river 
front.  But  it  drew  him.  That  was  the  place  for 
which  he  had  been  making  ready.  Life  was  earnest. 
He  wanted  to  begin  work.  He  would  never  be  con- 
tent with  less  than  the  most  that  could  be  won. 

An  aggrieved  voice  told  him  that  he  had  been 
silent  a  long  time.  "  I'm  still  here,  David."  Then, 
as  he  turned  his  face  and  she  saw  its  earnestness. 
"What  were  you  thinking  about?" 

"  About  what's  up  there  —  in  the  city,  for  me," 
he  said.  "  I  want  to  start  this  autumn.  I  would 
like  to  have  a  place  in  the  county  engineer's  office. 
I'm  fitted  for  it."  Some  recollection  of  the  Captain's 
failure  in  that  same  direction  quenched  the  sparkle 
in  his  eyes.  "  But  it's  not  easy  to  secure.  There  are 
a  good  many  applicants,  and  politics  —  " 

"  Politics !  Is  that  it  ?  Then  you  ought  to  speak 
to  Colonel  Marshall.  He  has  a  great  deal  of  in- 
fluence." 

"  No,  I  won't  do  that." 

"  You  won't  ?  You  must.  He  will  be  mighty 
glad  to  do  anything  for  you." 

114 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  He  might,  but  I'm  not  sure.  Anyhow,  I  would 
rather  not  ask  him." 

"  What  nonsense!  He's  known  you  all  your  life. 
Why  is  it  you  don't  want  to  ask  him  ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  David,  "  I'm  going  to  do  some- 
thing in  a  few  weeks  which  the  Colonel  will  never 
forgive.  I  am  going  to  vote  for  a  Black  Republi- 
can, —  the  blackest  of  them  all,  I  reckon,  according 
to  his  way  of  thinking,  —  Abraham  Lincoln." 

Dick  did  not  understand  the  sudden  jerk  on  the 
reins.  But  he  came  to  a  standstill  instantly,  and 
Lee,  leaning  a  little  forward,  repeated,  "  Abraham 
Lincoln!  The  countryman!  Do  you  mean  it ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  steadily.  "  I  am  going  to  vote 
for  Lincoln  for  President." 

"  You  are?    Why?    Why  not  Mr.  Douglas?  " 

"  Because  Mr.  Douglas  is  wrong,  and  I  believe  in 
Mr.  Lincoln." 

"  Believe  in  him !  Why,  they  say  he  is  a  gawky 
backwoods  lawyer." 

David,  with  knit  brows,  looking  straight  ahead 
of  him,  made  no  reply  at  first.  Then,  abruptly  fixing 
his  eyes  on  her,  asked,  "Lee,  do  you  believe  in 
slavery?  " 

"We  have  always  had  slaves.  Why  shouldn't 
I  believe  in  it  ?  " 

"  But  you  don't.  You  don't.  Your  father  doesn't, 
I  feel  sure.  And  Mr.  Lincoln  —  " 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Mr.  Lincoln  means  to  try  to  take  them  away 
from  us?  "  she  finished  for  him.  "  Is  that  right?  " 

"  Mr.  Lincoln  does  not  mean  to  do  that.  He 
means  to  try  to  hold  this  country  together.  That's 
why  I  shall  vote  for  him." 

"  I  never  thought  you  would  be  against  us,"  she 
said,  sadly. 

"  Against  us !  "  It  was  the  first  time  it  had  pre- 
sented itself  that  way.  Mr.  Lincoln  had  said,  "  A 
house  divided  against  itself  shall  not  stand."  This 
was  what  it  meant.  David  had  wrestled  with  old 
ideals  and  abandoned  them  to  learn  what?  For  an 
instant  he  almost  repented.  But  he  knew  that,  say 
what  he  might,  his  heart  would  speak  with  the  same 
voice.  He  looked  across  at  the  sweet  figure  which 
had  swayed  a  little  toward  him.-  The  gray  eyes 
seemed  to  beseech,  the  lips  trembled.  "  Lee,"  he 
said,  "  you  know  nothing  would  ever  make  me 
against  you.  But  I  must  vote  for  Mr.  Lincoln.  I 
have  thought  it  all  out." 

Did  her  figure  draw  from  him,  as  she  answered, 
"  Very  well,  you  must  do  your  own  way  ?  "  She 
lifted  the  reins  and  her  horse  started  forward. 
There  was  a  mile  of  that  road  over  which  David 
never  passed  afterward  but  recollection  pictured 
a  silent  figure  riding  beside  him,  and  his  brooding 
returned  to  him. 

She  surprised  him  when  she  spoke  again. 
"  David,  I  have  a  promise  to  keep  this  afternoon." 

116 


THE       CAPTAIN 

There  was  a  smile  on  her  lips,  and  he  answered, 
gaily,  "  If  it's  a  promise  to  me,  I  won't  let  you 
off." 

"  But  it's  not  to  you.  It's  to  another  man,  —  one 
I  want  you  to  meet." 

"  All  right.  But  I  don't  see  how  we  can  meet. 
Here  on  the  road  ?  " 

She  laughed.  "  None  the  less  it  is  to  be  here  on 
the  road.  The  man  is  Philip  Randolph.  He's  a 
sort  of  distant  cousin  of  mine.  Don't  you  remember 
'  the  rrian  from  Mississippi '  ?  " 

It  was  on  his  tongue  to  say,  "  The  foolish  man !  " 
How  plainly  he  did  remember!  It  was  that,  per- 
haps, which  sobered  him  and  made  him  answer, 
"  Yes.,  I  remember.  Where  is  he?  " 

"  He  came  up  from  Vicksburg  yesterday.  He 
has  to  go  back  to  St.  Louis  to-night.  So  he  sent 
a  message  that  he  would  ride  out  along  this  road 
this  afternoon ;  and  I  want  you  to  meet  him." 

"  That's  why  you  sent  me  that  note?  " 

She  nodded. 

"But  why  didn't  you  say  he  was  coming?  I 
don't  understand." 

"David,"  she  replied.  "David,  haven't  you 
learned  that  there  are  a  good  many  things  you  don't 
understand,  and  that  I  haven't  reasons  for  every- 
thing I  do?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  Frankly,  I  have,  but  —  Oh, 
I  shall  like  the  Mississippi  man  if  you  do."  If  a 

117 


THE       CAPTAIN 

reservation  suggested  itself,  he  did  not  acknowledge 
it  even  to  himself. 

At  the  next  turn  they  came  upon  Randolph 
suddenly.  He  was  lithe  and  slender.  He  sat  his 
horse  with  careless  ease,  and  as  he  pulled  off  his 
hat  and  rode  up  with  extended  hand,  David  decided 
that  these  facts  were  plain :  He  was  a  gentleman, 
and  he  was  all  in  looks  that  Lee  had  written.  His 
eyes  were  sparkling.  In  riding  clothes,  the  coat  open 
over  a  shirt  with  flowing  collar  and  tie,  his  slender, 
straight  figure  suggested  the  cavalier  in  every  line. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Shirley,"  he  cried,  the  Southern  drawl 
without  suspicion  of  laziness,  "  you  don't  know 
how  mighty  glad  I  am  to  see  you.  I  was  reckoning 
I  was  going  to  have  to  turn  back  without  seeing 
you." 

"  Now,  were  you  ?  "  Lee  mimicked  his  tone  of  in- 
jury and  regarded  him  with  wicked  eyes.  "Wouldn't 
that  have  been  sad  ?  " 

"  It  surely  would,"  he  protested.  Then  he  looked 
at  David.  "  Mr.  Philip  Randolph  —  of  Mississippi," 
she  said,  and  David  did  not  miss  the  emphasis. 

"  You  look  about  the  way  I  reckoned  you  did," 
Philip  vouchsafed.  "  I  hope  some  day  somebody 
will  give  me  as  good  a  character  as  Miss  Shirley  gave 
you."  It  was  spoken  frankly. 

As  they  rode  on  it  was  Lee  and  the  visitor  who 
did  the  talking.  David,  studying  the  eager  face 


118 


THE       CAPTAIN 

under  the  wide-brimmed  hat,  was  unconscious  of  his 
scrutiny  until  she  appealed  to  him. 

Then  he  shook  off  his  fancies  and  did  his  part. 
But  the  pleasure  of  the  ride  had  diminished.  He 
was  restless,  and  impressed  with  the  idea  that  a 
gallop  ahead  was  what  he  needed.  A  minute  later 
he  proposed  it. 

"  Just  what  I  would  like,"  Lee  agreed.  "  Dick 
wants  it,  too."  She  looked  over  at  Philip.  But  he 
was  enjoying  this  loafing  along  "  mighty  much," 
he  declared.  David's  suggestion  became  a  resolve. 
"  I'll  be  waiting  for  you  a  mile  on,"  he  said,  and 
raced  ahead.  He  was  sure  it  was  what  he  needed 
when  she  did  not  try  to  dissuade  him.  But  how  is 
it  that  the  right  way  so  often  is  rough  travelling? 


119 


VII 

CROSSING 

A    BRIDGE 

IN  October  Lee  went  to  New  Orleans  in  Nina 
Rennert's  company.  She  was  to  spend  Novem- 
ber at  Vicksburg  with  her  cousins,  the  Pem- 
bertons.  David  rode  over  to  say  good-bye  the 
evening  before  she  left. 

He  came  from  a  meeting  where  he  had  heard 
Lincoln's  name  cheered  and  hissed.  He  had  seen 
one  rush  from  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  that  ended 
in  a  fight.  He  had  heard  Oswald  speak,  and  his 
was  the  "  Black  Republican  "  speech  which  brought 
on  the  fight.  He  had  helped  to  drive  back  those 
who  tried  to  break  up  the  meeting.  With  these 
sounds  ringing  in  his  head,  and  the  shoving  bodies 
and  close-pressed,  excited  faces  still  clear  in  his 
vision,  he  wondered  at  himself.  It  must  have  been 
some  one  else  who,  a  year  ago,  had  doubted  what 
his  decision  should  be. 

When  he  came  into  the  library  at  Doctor  Shirley's 
and  found  Lee  alone,  he  was  sure  she  would  read 

1 2O 


THE       CAPTAIN 

his  thoughts.  But  she  held  out  her  hand  and  told 
him  to  bring  over  the  big  chair  beside  the  fire. 
She  began  to  talk  of  his  plans  for  beginning  work 
that  winter.  How  womanly  and  serious  she  had 
grown !  He  was  very  proud  of  her  friendship.  He 
would  miss  her  this  time  as  he  had  never  done  before. 
But  he  did  not  tell  her  so,  though  once  he  began  to 
speak  of  it  and  stopped  because  what  he  said  made 
her  look  at  him  so  curiously. 

He  had  risen  to  go  when  she  asked  him,  "  David, 
once  you  said  you  would  vote  for  Mr.  Lincoln  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will  vote  for  him." 

"You  really  mean  it?" 

"  Of  course."  He  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  back 
of  the  chair  and  looked  down  on  her,  wagging  his 
head  in  mockery  of  her  incredulity.  "  I  mean  it." 

"  I  do  npt  understand,"  she  said.  "  How  can 
you  do  it?  " 

"  Because  I  believe  Mr.  Lincoln  is  right,"  he  an- 
swered, all  at  once  earnest. 

"Right?"  she  echoed.  "Right  to  try  to  take 
away  from  us  what  belongs  to  us,  what  we  have 
always  had?  Is  that  right?  " 

"  Lee,"  said  David,  quietly,  as  he  had  once  before, 
"you  don't  believe  in  slavery  yourself.  Do  you? 
Does  the  Doctor?" 

And  this  time  she  attempted  no  equivocation. 
"  It  isn't  that,"  she  returned.  "  If  it  was  only 
a  question  of  our  giving  up  the  few  people  we 

121 


have,  I  would  not  care.  Sometimes  I  think  father 
would  do  that  now  for  the  sake  of  peace.  But  it 
is  more.  It  is  saying  we  must.  It  is  the  North 
telling  the  South  what  it  shall  not  do." 

"  You  are  wrong.  With  Mr.  Lincoln  there  is  no 
North  and  no  South.  There  is  only  his  country." 

"  His  country !  "  she  repeated,  scornfully.  "  And 
that  is  why  he  is  putting  our  friends  against  us? 
Oh,  why  does  he  do  it?  We  have  always  lived  our 
own  way.  We  have  been  happy.  Why  can't  we 
be  left  alone?" 

"  Because  slavery  can't  go  any  further  if  we  are 
to  have  the  Union." 

"  The  Union !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How  sick  I  am 
of  the  word !  " 

His  head  went  back.     "  You  don't  mean  that !  " 

"  I  do !  "  she'cried.  "  I  am  sick  of  it !  The  Union 
is  the  North,  and  the  North  is  not  yours,  David, 
and  it  is  not  mine.  It  never  will  be.  The  North 
is  different,  so  different.  It  does  not  understand 
us.  I  have  been  North.  I  know.  And  you  know, 
too." 

He  did  know.  Twist  it  as  he  might,  the  South 
was  the  South,  and  the  North  —  what  was  the 
North?  He  respected  it,  he  wondered  at  it.  He 
was  learning  to  know  it  better.  But  it  was  not  in 
his  heart.  He  was  silent. 

"  And  the  South  will  never  yield,"  she  went  on, 
rapidly.  "  It  will  go  out  first.  And  then  what  will  the 

122 


THE       CAPTAIN 

North  do?  What  will  you  do?  "  He  did  not  reply. 
She  said  again,  "  What  will  you  do,  David  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  gone  that  far  yet,"  he  answered, 
slowly.  "  I  do  not  want  to." 

"  Then  you  have  no  right  to  help  the  North." 
Her  face  was  lifted  to  his.  She  threw  out  an  arm 
with  closed  hand.  "  You  have  no  right  to  help 
them,"  she  repeated;  "  for  you  belong  to  us."  The 
clenched  fingers  unclosed  —  and  there  was  a  pleading 
palm.  "  So  you  won't  vote  for  Mr.  Lincoln,"  she 
said,  softly.  "  You  won't  ?  I  ask  you  not  to." 

David  took  the  hand  held  out  to  him.  "  You 
know  I  wouldn't,  if  I  could  do  anything  else,"  he 
said. 

"But  I  ask  you?"  she  repeated.  "It  means  a 
great  deal  to  me  what  —  you  do."  The  last  words 
were  very  faint;  her  eyes  were  hidden.  And  he 
fought  with  a  tenderness  that  made  him  tremble. 
But  those  days  and  nights  of  battle  with  himself 
had  made  him  sure.  He  tried  to  tell  her  how  it 
was. 

"  But  me?  "  she  reminded  him.  The  fingers  clung 
to  his.  "  Doesn't  it  make  any  difference  about  me? 
I  thought  —  " 

"  You  know  it  makes  a  difference.  I  would  do 
anything  for  you  that  I  could." 

"  Then  do  this."    The  lashes  lifted  for  an  instant. 

"  But  this  —  this  time  -   "  he  began. 

"  This  time?  "  she  said.    There  was  a  little  pause. 

123 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Then  the  hand  slipped  from  his  grasp.  She  had 
looked  into  his  face  and  seen.  "  This  time  it  doesn't 
count,"  she  went  on.  "That  is  it.  It  was  easy  enough 
before.  Now,  because  you  have  made  up  your  mind 
—  I  might  have  known  it.  I  might  have  known 
it.  But  I  kept  on  hoping." 

He  was  learning  then  the  lesson  which  every  man 
must  learn.  There  is  no  enemy,  no  friend,  like  one's 
own  heart.  But  he  was  true  to  it,  —  true  to  it 
though  his  words  were  the  hardest  he  ever  spoke. 
"  I  can't  do  it,  Lee.  I  can't.  Forgive  me." 

She  did  not  speak  then ;  she  knew  'that  this  was 
what  he  would  say.  But  when  he  leaned  for- 
ward, and  said  again,  "Forgive  me!"  she  was 
not  deceived  by  that  swift  response.  "  Forgive  you? 
I  have  nothing  to  forgive.  I  only  made  —  a  mis- 
take." 

Then  he  tried  to  speak  of  it  again,  and  she 
frowned.  "  No,  don't  speak  of  it  any  more.  We 
have  said  everything.  I  want  to  forget  it ! " 

Forget  it !  He  knew  he  would  not  do  that. 
When  she  said  good  night  and  he  walked  from  the 
room  and  looked  back  from  the  doorway  to  see  her 
face  turned  away,  he  knew  that  she  would  not 
forget,  and  that  something  very  dear  seemed  slipping 
from  him. 

But  he  did  not  know  that  as  the  door  closed 
on  him,  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and  made  a  quick 
step  toward  the  window,  then  slowly  turned  again, 

124 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and,  in  the  chair  by  the  fire,  dropped  her  hands  in  her 
lap.  If  he  had  known  that,  would  he  have  come 
back?  Not  to  unsay  his  words,  it  is  certain. 

When  the  Doctor  came  in  and  spoke  to  her  she 
lifted  such  a  strange  face  to  his,  that  he  asked  her 
what  was  wrong. 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered.  "  Except  the  things 
which  are  right."  Which  was  stranger  still,  though 
it  only  brought  a  perplexed  wrinkle  to  the  Doctor's 
face.  He  held  out  his  hands  for  her.  She  flung  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  and  hugged  him  tightly.  "  Good 
night,"  she  said.  "  Good  night."  Then  with  her 
head  on  his  breast,  she  asked  him,  "  Father,  have 
you  ever  heard  Mr.  Lincoln  speak  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I've  read  some  of  his  speeches,"  he 
said.  "  If  it  wasn't  for  Mr.  Douglas,  I  believe  I 
would  vote  for  him." 

"  I  wouldn't,"  she  declared,  vehemently.  "  No, 
I  never  would  —  not  if  there  was  never  to  be  a 
President.  But  "  —  her  voice  was  sad  —  "  but  it's 
no  use,  father.  Mr.  Lincoln  will  be  elected." 

Before  he  could  speak  she  had  kissed  him  twice 
again  and  slipped  from  the  room. 

The  Doctor  wondered  and  intended  to  ask  her 
what  she  meant.  But  he  never  did.  Neither  did 
he  repeat  her  prophecy  to  David.  Like  many  other 
things,  he  never  thought  of  it  again.  So  David 
missed  what  perhaps  was  a  message,  a  message  which 
might  have  made  easier  the  weeks  in  which  there 

125 


THE       CAPTAIN 

came  no  letter  from  her,  and  the  letter  which  he  tried 
to  write  remained  unwritten.  It  might  have  been, 
too,  that  it  would  have  given  a  keener  edge  to  his 
satisfaction  on  the  November  day  when  he  knew 
that  the  tall,  awkward  man  in  black  for  whom  he 
had  voted  was  elected  President  of  the  United  States. 

His  uncle  brought  the  news.  "  But  I  am  very 
much  afraid  he  will  not  be  President  long,"  he  added. 
"  You  would  not  take  my  advice,  David.  You 
voted  for  him.  You  will  see  you  have  done  wrong." 

Kitty  Marshall,  with  sparkling  eyes,  told  David 
of  the  scene  when  the  Colonel  came  home  from  St. 
Louis  the  day  of  the  election.  He  had  .refused  to 
the  last  moment  to  accept  the  result.  "  I  was  with 
Aunt  Sarah  when  he  came  in,"  she  said.  "  He  never 
spoke  a  word;  and  Aunt  Sarah  stood  it  as  long  as 
she  could.  Then  she  said,  '  Well,  I  suppose  some 
one  was  elected.'  You  ought  to  have  seen  the  Colo- 
nel's face."  Kitty  whistled.  "  He  was  the  colour 
of  whitewash.  '  I  have  not  learned  yet,'  he  said  " 
—  Kitty  put  her  hands  behind  her  back  and  struck 
an  attitude  —  "  '  I  have  not  learned  yet  that  any  one 
was  made  President.  They  say  that  they  will  put 
a  man  over  us  named  Lincoln.  Let  them  try.  This 
is  the  last  insult  to  be  borne.  The  last  insult.  It 
will  be  war !  War  inside  of  six  months !  And  you, 
you  must  not  forget,  madam,  are  one  of  those  who 
have  brought  it  on.  I  hope  you  will  be  as  ready  for 
it  as  I  am.'  Then  he  rushed  out  of  the  room,"  Kitty 

126 


THE       CAPTAIN 

explained.    "  And  Aunt  Sarah,  —  well,  she  just  sat 
there." 

She  paused,  and  added,  "  David,  I  reckon  some- 
thing must  have  happened  to  Aunt  Sarah  right  then. 
For  she  didn't  answer  back  a  word." 

Boone  came  to  St.  Louis  on  an  errand  for  a  hos- 
pital a  few  weeks  later.  Of  course  the  talk  was 
immediately  of  the  election.  He  was  in  the  full 
flood  of  exultation.  "  The  country  has  spoken  to 
the  point,"  he  declared.  "  What  more  do  they  want  ? 
The  Democrats!  Where  are  they?  They  met  in 
June.  Then  they  broke.  The  seceders  held  a  con- 
vention for  themselves,  and  they  didn't  agree  any 
too  well.  Between  Baltimore  and  Richmond  they 
made  a  nice  mess  of  it.  We  have  them  on  the  hip." 

"  But  they  are  ugly  and  determined,"  said  David, 
slowly.  "  And  General  Scott  has  advised  the  Presi- 
dent to  double  all  garrisons  at  United  States  forts. 
That  doesn't  look  as  if  it  were  settled." 

Boone  laughed  grimly.  "  Maybe  not.  But  if  it 
comes  to  anything  like  that,  we  won't  be  stopped  by 
a  weak-kneed  politician  like  Buchanan.  If  they  try 
to  follow  the  advice  of  those  Charleston  traitors 
and  make  their  '  Southern  republic/  we'll  -  He 
checked  himself.  "I  forgot,"  he  said.  "You've 
not  quite  made  up  your  mind  as  to  the  unrighteous- 
ness of  this.  But  you  will,  you  will,  old  fellow, 


127 


THE       CAPTAIN 

because  you  love  the  old  flag."  David  was  staring 
gloomily  at  the  opposite  wall.  He  made  no  reply. 

"  I  met  the  Captain  the  other  day,"  Boone  volun- 
teered, after  a  minute.  "  He  came  into  the  hall  where 
we  Wide  Awakes  were  drilling.  He  looked  on; 
didn't  say  a  word.  Nobody  noticed  him  till  Smith, 
who  was  drilling  us,  asked  him  to  put  us  through 
a  few  movements.  One  or  two  of  the  fellows 
laughed  when  he  came  on  the  floor.  He  sort  of 
slouched  along  and  looked  so  rusty.  But  just  then 
he  straightened  up,  flung  back  the  cape  of  that  old 
overcoat,  and  —  there  wasn't  any  more  loafing; 
and  there  wasn't  any  laughing  so  far  as  I  heard." 

"  The  Wide  Awakes  ?  I  thought  you  wrote  he'd 
been  elected  captain  of  that  Douglas  Club  at 
Galena?" 

"  He  was  elected.  But  he  declined  the  nomination. 
Said  he  hadn't  been  long  enough  in  the  State  to 
vote.  It  was  the  same  answer  he  gave  when  Smith 
asked  him  what  he  thought  of  Douglas.  I  was  stand- 
ing by.  '  He's  a  very  smart  man,'  he  said.  *  I 
heard  him  at  Dubuque  the  other  day.  But  I  don't 
like  his  ideas  exactly.  It  don't  seem  to  me  as  if 
they'd  work.  I  don't  know  which  way  I'd  vote  if 
I  could.  Last  time  I  voted  against  Fremont.' ' 

"  Yes,"  confirmed  David.  "  I  remember  he  told 
me  about  that.  But  he's  changed  his  mind  since 
then.  I  believe  he  is  against  secession." 

Boone's  eyes  opened  wide.     He  forgot  all  about 

128 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  Captain.  His  chin  came  up  with  a  snap. 
"Secession!  We'll  take  that  notion  out  of  any 
State  in  short  order,"  he  said,  passionately.  "  If 
they  try  it,  we'll  bring  them  back  before  they  know 
they're  out." 

David  did  not  answer.  "  You  don't  think  we  can 
do  it?  "  demanded  Boone.  "  Why,  what  sort  of  a 
Lincoln  man  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  just  what  I  think  about  it."  David 
was  studying  the  wall.  "  I  haven't  come  up  to  it 
yet.  I  don't  mean  to  till  I  have  to."  He  raised  his 
face.  It  was  very  sober.  "  Boone,"  he  said,  "  it 
seems  to  me  there's  a  difference  between  stopping 
slavery  where  it  is  and  telling  the  people  of  a  State 
they  can't  vote  to  do  what  they  want  with  their 
State  because  other  States  don't  agree  with  them. 
I've  tried  to  see  it  the  way  you  do.  But  I'm  not 
ready  yet  to  go  that  far." 

"  You'll  have  to  go  a  good  bit  further  before 
long.  And  when  it  comes,  as  I  said,  you'll  be  on 
the  right  side." 

David  spoke  slowly.  "  We'll  find  a  way  out. 
There  must  be  one.  If  there  isn't!  Do  you  know 
what  it  would  mean?  It  would  mean  that  perhaps 
you  and  I  would  be  shooting  across  a  fence  at 
each  other." 

"  When  the  time  comes  for  shooting,"  Boone  re- 
turned, "  we'll  be  on  the  same  side  of  the  fence." 

That  afternoon  they  rode  out  to  Gravois.    Boone 

129 


THE       CAPTAIN 

was  to  stay  overnight.  In  the  evening  they  called 
on  Kitty  Marshall. 

David  did  not  explain  that  it  was  only  the  Colo- 
nel's absence  which  made  him  feel  at  liberty  to 
visit  the  house.  He  took  immense  satisfaction  in 
noting  the  first  return  of  the  old  spirit  in  Boone. 
Kitty  plainly  showed  her  liking  for  the  new  visitor, 
but  for  David  she  reserved  pitying  allusions  to  his 
"  loneliness." 

Presently  she  jumped  up.  "  I  want  to  read  you  a 
letter  —  parts  of  it,"  she  said.  "  It  will  interest 
you,  David.  It's  from  her."  She  gave  him  a  fleet- 
ing glance. 

He  answered  promptly.  "  Is  it  ?  I'm  mighty 
glad.  Boone  has  never  met  her." 

She  brought  the  letter  under  the  lamp,  and  ran 
her  eyes  over  it,  page  after  page.  Then  she  delib- 
erately refolded  it,  and  laid  it  in  her  lap.  "  On 
second  thoughts,  I  won't  read  it,"  she  said.  "  It 
wouldn't  be  exactly  fair.  There's  so  much  in  it 
about  some  people  Doctor  Hadley  doesn't  know. 
But  she  did  speak  of  that  Mr.  Randolph  who  was  up 
here  while  I  was  away.  You  met  him,  didn't  you, 
David?" 

"  Philip  Randolph  ?  Oh,  yes.  Does  he  live  in 
Vicksburg?  I  thought  his  home  was  some  distance 
from  there." 

"  So  it  is,  I  believe,"  answered  Kitty.  "  But  you 
see  he  has  some  very  good  friends  at  Vicksburg." 

130 


THE       CAPTAIN 

She  paused ;  and,  as  if  it  was  an  afterthought,  "  And 
he  is  very  fond  of  riding."  She  raised  a  hand  and 
put  back  her  hair.  Unobserved,  she  had  an  excellent 
glimpse  of  David.  But  it  did  not  satisfy  her.  "  He 
is  very  good-looking,  isn't  he?  "  she  asked. 

'''  Yes,  he  is  good-looking,"  said  David.  "  And, 
L  remember,  he  did  ride  well.  I  expect  that's  the 
reason,"  he  added. 

Of  what  this  was  the  reason  the  tremble  of  Kitty's 
lip  may  have  been  an  indication.  But  she  went  on, 
"  What  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  though,  was  about  a 
girl.  Lee  says  she's  a  beauty.  Maybe  she'll  come 
up  to  visit  here  later.  Every  man's  in  love  with  her 
in  Vicksburg.  I  picked  you  out,  Doctor  Hadley, 
to  be  bur  champion,  as  soon  as  I  saw  you.  You  and 
she  would  make  such  a  splendid  —  what  shall  I 
say?" 

David  laughed.  "  First  you'd  better  tell  us  what 
she's  like." 

"  Let  me  see,"  she  said,  reflectively.  "  She  is  — 
oh,  I  know  the  very  thing.  Lee  sent  her  picture." 

.  She  slipped  a  photograph  from  the  envelope  in 
her  lap.  David  declared  that  it  was  the  picture 
of  a  very  handsome  girl.  He  said  it  so  deliberately 
that  she  laughed.  "  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  enter  the 
lists?" 

"  I  would,"  answered  David,  and,  in  the  same 
spirit,  "  I  hope  she  decides  to  come  here.  I  wonder 
if  she  could  be  persuaded  to  look  at  me?  " 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"She  might,"  replied  Kitty,  judicially.  "I'll 
ask  Lee's  opinion.  She  can  describe  you  pretty 
closely.  And,  I  reckon,  she'd  give  you  a  good  char- 
acter." She  paused  expectantly.  But  neither  of  her 
visitors  responded,  and  she  went  on,  "  I  might  as 
well  tell  you,  though,  the  whole  sad  truth  at  once. 
She's  for  neither  of  you.  Lee  writes  that  she's  al- 
ready engaged  to  a  Vicksburg  man.  His  name  is 
Carson." 

David  was  conscious  that  Boone  had  sud- 
denly withdrawn  his  attention.  "Here!"  he  said. 
"  You  have  an  opinion,  even  if  the  lady  of  the 
picture  is  preempted.  What  do  you  think  of  her  ?  " 

"  I  ?  "  repeated  Boone,  slowly.  "  I  think  her  face 
is  rather  —  cold." 

"  You  do  ?  That's  strange."  David  examined 
the  photograph  again.  It  was  his  opinion  that,  if 
ever  there  was  a  face  in  which  was  warmth  and 
expression,  it  was  this.  But  Boone  was  answering 
one  of  their  hostess's  inconsequential  questions,  and 
he  laid  the  picture  down. 

A  few  days  later,  meeting  Kitty,  he  referred  to 
the  photograph  and  Boone's  comment  on  it.  "  What 
was  it  he  said  ?  "  she  asked,  carelessly. 

"  Why,  you  heard  him." 

"  Oh,  yes,  —  that.  I  remember  now.  But  — 
afterward  ?  " 

"  He  didn't  mention  the  picture  to  me." 

132 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Is  that  so  ?  I  had  an  idea  he  admired  it.  I 
must  have  been  mistaken." 

"  I'm  sure  you  were."  David  reflected  that  her 
perceptions  were  not  always  acute. 

Perhaps  this  was  the  reason  Kitty  exhibited  such 
lively  interest  in  the  girl  of  the  photograph  when 
next  she  wrote  to  Lee,  yet  spoke  never  a  word  of 
having  shown  it  to  Boone. 

One  afternoon  a  week  later  David  carried  a  letter 
to  Doctor  Shirley  from  his  uncle.  The  Doctor  read 
it  slowly,  then,  for  a  minute,  sat  gazing  at  the  fire. 
When  he  became  aware  of  his  silence,  he  apologised. 
"  Talk  to  me  a  little  while,  won't  you  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  I  am  lonely.  What  is  the  news  ?  " 

David  had  little  to  tell.  But  he  mentioned  the 
threat  which  came  from  South  Carolina,  and  the 
Doctor's  brow  clouded.  "  It  is  folly,"  he  said,  — 
"  folly  of  the  worst  kind.  But  the  State  is  in  the 
right.  She  can  leave  the  Union  if  she  wishes.  No 
one  has  the  power  to  keep  her  in.  And  if  she  needs 
help —  But  it  must  never  go  that  far.  Nothing 
will  justify  war  while  there  is  a  way  out  of  it." 

"  A  good  many  men  are  trying  to  find  a  way," 
David  answered.  "  Mr.  Buchanan  —  " 

The  Doctor's  mouth  contorted  with  disgust.  "  He 
has  helped  to  bring  it'  on,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Each 
man  must  do  his  part  to  prevent  it.  I  shall  free  my 
slaves  at  once." 

David  started.    "  What  does  Lee  think  of  that?  " 

133 


"  I  have  not  told  her  yet.  I  have  not  mentioned 
my  intention  to  any  one.  But  she  will  agree 
with  me.  It  is  best.  I  have  been  thinking  over  it 
a  great  deal.  If  war  came,  I  would  —  yes,  I  would 
do  what  I  could  for  the  South.  But  Mr.  Lincoln 
is  right  about  slavery.  So  I  am  giving  up  my 
people.  I  hope  it  will  do  some  good." 

"  I  hope  it  will,"  was  all  David  could  say.  He 
looked  at  the  slender  figure  in  the  chair,  the  eye- 
glasses raised  above  the  peering  eyes.  And  pity 
mingled  with  his  respect.  Here  was  a  man  who 
would  fight,  fight  bravely,  he  was  sure,  and  for  a 
principle;  yet  was  willing  to  yield  his  own  com- 
fort and  a  good  share  of  all  that  he  possessed  to 
save  others.  But  what  would  the  sacrifice  accom- 
plish? Repeated  a  hundredfold  it  would  not  clear 
the  troubled  waters  now.  Besides,  there  was  Lee! 

It  was  as  if  the  Doctor  read  his  thoughts.  "  It's 
little  enough  I'm  doing,  after  all,"  he  said,  with  an 
apologetic  smile.  "  There  are  only  six  of  my  people 
left.  Once  upon  a  time  —  "  He  checked  himself, 
and  added,  "  Sometimes  I  think  it  would  be  just 
as  well  if  I  gave  up  the  old  place  here  altogether. 
Some  of  my  wife's  family  still  live  in  the  South. 
And  Lee  —  if  anything  should  happen  —  " 

He  raised  himself  in  the  chair  and  laid  a  hand  on 
David's  knee.  "  David,"  he  said,  in  a  lower  voice, 
"  I  wish  you  would  do  something  for  me." 

"  Whatever  it  is,  I'll  do  it,  Doctor." 

134 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Well,  it  is  this.  If  there  is  war  I  have  told 
you  what  I  would  do.  And  I  haven't  made  as  many 
friends  around  here  as  I  should  have.  But  you  are 
a  friend,  and  I  trust  you.  Would  you  —  if  any- 
thing happens  —  look  out  for  her  ?  I  mean  see  that 
she  was  safe  with  her  people.  Would  you  do  that  ?  " 

Whatever  passed  in  David's  mind,  his  answer 
came  promptly.  "  I  will.  I  promise  you.  But  you 
mustn't  talk  that  way.  There  are  years  ahead." 


135 


VIII 

THE  GIRL 
FROM  THE  SOUTH 

THOSE  were  the  days  when  the  telegraph 
wires  from  the  South  carried  one  word 
to  the  North,  —  secession !  The  Mississippi 
Legislature  directed  commissioners  to  be  sent  to  the 
other  slave-holding  States  to  secure  united  action  on 
secession.  Jefferson  Davis  declared  in  the  Senate 
that  the  Union  cost  "  little  time,  little  money,  and 
no  blood."  The  Secretary  of  the  United  States 
Treasury  resigned  because  secession  was  not  recog- 
nised by  the  Government.  The  Secretary  of  State 
resigned  because  the  administration  did  not  recognise 
the  need  to  aim  against  secession.  One  half  of  the 
Senators  and  Representatives  of  eight  Southern 
States  called  on  their  constituents  to  organise  for 
secession.  On  December  2Oth  South  Carolina 
seceded  from  the  Union. 

And  all  the  while  a  President  of  the  United  States 
temporised  and  tried  to  propitiate.  What  was  his 
remedy?  A  day  of  humiliation  and  fasting  and 
prayer  because  of  "  the  dangerous  and  distracted 

136 


THE       CAPTAIN 

condition  of  the  country."  When  the  Representa- 
tives from  a  State  which  had  made  its  own  "  declara- 
tion of  independence  "  called  upon  him,  he  received 
them  —  but  with  pompous  dignity  "  as  private  gen- 
tlemen." Such  was  his  brave  assertion.  When  the 
Secretary  of  War,  having  distributed  the  army  and 
navy  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven,  made  a  last  whole- 
sale seizure  for  the  enemies  of  the  Union  by  sending 
them  over  one  hundred  cannon,  the  Secretary  re- 
signed. 

At  last  the  man  who  had  sworn  to  do  his  duty 
to  the  United  States  stiffened  into  a  semblance 
of  resistance.  He  declared  that  a  United  States  fort 
in  South  Carolina  would  be  defended  to  the  final 
extremity.  And  to  see  that  his  command  was  car- 
ried out,  told  one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  men  to 
do  their  duty. 

But  nearer  to  David's  own  home  there  were  things 
being  done  of  which  the  purpose  was  not  less  plain. 
There  was  talk  and  lowering  looks  everywhere  which 
told  which  way  the  tide  of  opinion  ran.  It  was  no 
secret  in  St.  Louis  that  the  governor  and  lieutenant- 
governor  of  the  State  were  for  secession.  It  was 
little  more  of  a  secret  that  under  cover  they  were 
doing  all  they  could  to  strip  the  State  of  the  power 
to  resist  when  the  time  for  action  should  come.  State 
troops  assembled  and  recruited  for  an  object  which 
no  one  misunderstood.  A  United  States  arsenal, 

137 


deprived  almost  wholly  of  its  garrison,  awaited  the 
first  hand  which  should  be  laid  upon  it. 

And,  if  there  were  other  men  who  drilled  to  de- 
fend the  arsenal  and  the  city,  these  did  not  call 
themselves  soldiers.  They  met  not  to  destroy,  but 
to  save  a  Union,  and  they  made  no  threats.  Years 
before,  they  had  come  across  an  ocean  to  find  a  new 
home.  Here  they  had  found  it.  Time  and  hard 
work  and  peace  had  knit  them  into  the  fabric  of  the 
Union.  They  loved  it.  Now  they  meant  that  it 
should  remain  unbroken. 

In  their  halls  in  the  southern  part  of  the  city 
they  met  and  fell  into  line  and  marched  and  learned 
how  to  hold  their  arms  and  bodies  against  the  time 
when  a  musket  should  mean  a  bullet  and  not  an 
empty  barrel. 

But  there  were  others  besides  who  made  no  parade 
of  their  doings.  One  September  day  of  that  same 
year,  down  in  Charleston,  half  a  dozen  influential 
men  met  and  formed  a  secret  society  —  "  The  1860 
Association."  Its  purpose  was  "  to  resist  Northern 
aggression,  and  influence  public  sentiment."  In  this 
last  phrase  the  assassin  found  his  text.  He  heard  it 
in  the  South,  and  passed  it  on.  He  heard  of  it  further 
West,  and  repeated  it  to  the  next  of  his  kind.  So  it 
came  to  the  North,  and  to  David's  State. 

But  its  march  was  as  stealthy  as  its  purpose. 
David  laughed  when  one  day  'Lias,  wagging  his 
head,  told  him,  "  There  is  something  going  on 

138 


THE       CAPTAIN 

about  here  that  I  don't  understand.  And  I  don't 
want  to  come  any  nearer  to  it.  I  voted  for  Douglas ; 
I  would  vote  for  him  again.  But  that's  something 
I  can  say  to  any  man.  This  new  association,  what- 
ever it  is,  which  they've  asked  me  to  go  into,  isn't  to 
be  talked  of  in  the  open.  So  I  won't  join.  I  told 
him  so." 

"  Told  whom?  "  inquired  David.  "  I'm  all  in  the 
dark." 

"  Tom  White."  'Lias  spat  into  the  road.  "  And 
I'm  as  much  in  the  dark  as  you  are.  I  was  told  it 
was  a  Democratic  association.  '  For  what  ?  '  I  asked. 
'  To  help  the  party.'  '  But  how?  '  I  said.  '  I  did 
what  I  could  by  voting.  We  were  licked.  What 
more  can  be  done  till  next  election  ? '  Then  Mr. 
White  puts  his  tobacco  in  a  lump  in  front  of  his 
teeth  and  turns  it  round  and  round  with  his  tongue. 
'  There's  plenty  still  to  be  done,'  he  says.  If  I  come 
in,  I'll  see.  '  All  Democrats  must  stand  together,' 
he  says,  and  —  there  you  are." 

David's  frown  struggled  with  a  smile.  "So?" 
he  remarked.  "  But  where  are  you  ?  and  where 
is  this  association  ?  " 

'Lias  threw  out  an  arm.  "  It's  everywhere,  if 
Mr.  White's  pulling  of  his  goatee  and  rolling  of 
his  quid  and  mumbling  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
mouth  are  a  say-so.  It's  nowhere,  if  a  plain  question 
that  gets  no  answer  means  anything." 

"But  who  are  the  other  members?"    This  time 

139 


THE       CAPTAIN 

David's  smile  worked  its  way  clear  and  he  turned 
his  face  aside  to  save  'Lias's  dignity.  But  he  did 
it  too  late. 

"  I've  said  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  know  is 
what  I  mean.  If  you  think  you  can  find  out  from 
the  next  man,  you'd  better  try.  I'm  sure  there's 
some  deviltry  going  on,  and  I'm  damned  if  I'll  put 
my  foot  into  it  if  wearing  my  own  shoes'll  keep  me 
out." 

David  rode  on,  repeating  the  words  he  had  heard. 
But  they  didn't  convey  a  definite  impression.  He 
concluded  that  at  most  they  suggested  another  nebu- 
lous scheme  of  Mr.  White's  for  a  political  organisa- 
tion of  which  he  should  be  both  oracle  and  custodian 
of  the  funds. 

A  week  later  the  story  was  recalled  to  him  sharply. 
Riding  back  from  the  Barracks,  he  took  a  little  used 
road  which  cut  across  country  in  the  direction  of  the 
settlement.  Half  a  mile  along  this  he  came  upon 
a  dilapidated  barn  standing  among  trees  away  from 
the  road.  The  farmhouse  had  been  burned  years 
before.  Since  then  the  place  had  been  unoccupied. 
Now  he  noticed  many  wagon-tracks  and  hoof-prints 
which  led  up  the  weed-grown  lane  toward  the 
barn.  The  tracks  were  fresh.  Curiosity  led  him  to 
follow  them. 

At  the  barn  he  dismounted,  and  tried  the  double 
doors.  They  were  fastened.  He  walked  around  a 
stone  ledge  of  the  foundation-wall  and  sought  to 

140 


THE       CAPTAIN 

look  through  a  window.  It  was  tightly  boarded  up. 
A  little  ashamed  of  his  persistence,  he  turned  the 
corner  of  the  building.  Below  him,  facing  the  en- 
closure which  had  served  as  a  cow-yard,  he  saw 
another  door. 

This  was  fastened,  but  a  quick  pull  jerked  it 
open.  He  looked  in.  The  place  was  lighted  only 
by  the  rays  of  sunshine,  which  slanted  between 
cracks  in  the  boarding  and  filtered  through  a  cob- 
webbed  window  overhead.  At  the  level  of  his  feet 
a  litter  of  musty  hay  had  been  trodden  into  the  dirt 
floor.  In  a  corner  a  large  pile  had  been  pitched 
down  from  the  loft.  The  prospect  did  not  encourage 
investigation.  He  was  about  to  turn,  when  his  eyes 
rested  on  the  ends  of  several  planks  which  showed 
beyond  the  edge  of  the  loft  floor  above  him.  They 
seemed  to  lie  at  regular  intervals,  a  foot  or  more 
above  the  floor.  The  curious  suggestion  of  a  row 
of  benches  made  him  look  again.  He  slipped  inside, 
climbed  the  loft  ladder,  and  saw  that  his  fancy  had 
reason. 

Across  a  couple  of  saw-horses  and  as  many  boxes 
were  placed  half  a  dozen  planks  in  parallel  rows. 
Facing  them,  near  the  far  wall  of  the  loft  almost 
empty  of  hay,  was  a  box  with  a  nail-keg  on  end 
behind  it.  The  ridiculous  resemblance  to  the  inside 
of  a  back-country  schoolhouse  was  carried  out  by 
a  spatter  of  blots  on  the  box-top,  and  a  broken  pen 
or  two  stuck  into  the  wood. 

141 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Amusement  made  him  stare  about  him.  A  party 
of  children  might  have  been  playing  here.  But  when 
he  saw  the  stain  of  tobacco  juice  on  the  floor,  his 
perplexity  waxed.  In  the  gloom  of  the  place  each 
moment  he  picked  out  more  readily  the  shape  of 
objects  around  him.  But  still  he  was  without  clue 
to  the  mystery.  Then,  because  it  was  loose  under 
his  hand,  he  raised  the  lid  of  the  feed-box  and  looked 
inside. 

The  box  held  a  variety  of  things.  In  one  corner 
was  a  pile  of  folded  cloths.  He  picked  up  the  top- 
most. It  was  a  piece  of  black  muslin  three  or  four 
yards  in  length.  It  might,  he  reflected,  be  used  for 
a  dozen  purposes,  none  of  which  seemed  to  explain 
its  presence.  In  another  corner  a  second  pile  of 
black  cloth  proved  to  be  made  up  of  small  strips 
with  eye  and  mouth  holes  cut  in  each,  and  strings 
at  the  ends.  He  turned  over  the  improvised  mask 
and  stared  at  it.  Then  he  laughed.  Surely  this 
hinted  at  a  den  of  robbers.  He  was  tickled  by  the 
picture  of  a  band  of  highwaymen  sitting  here 
gravely  in  rows,  like  school-children,  facing  their 
chief  on  a  nail-keg.  He  folded  the  cloths  and  re- 
placed them.  Then  his  hand  met  something  hard, 
and  he  brought  it  out.  It  was  a  tin  box  of  moderate 
size,  and  he  tried  the  lid.  But  it  was  fitted  with 
a  lock  and  would  not  open.  He  shook  it.  Inside 
something  soft  slid  and  rustled.  It  was  easy  to 
guess  this  was  paper.  But,  however  that  might 

142 


THE       CAPTAIN 

be,  it  was  not  to  be  seen.  He  put  back  the  box 
reluctantly.  Then,  looking  over  the  rows  of  plank 
seats,  solemnly  arrayed  across  the  floor,  the  ludicrous 
idea  of  a  robber-band  at  its  lessons  was  recalled, 
and  he  laughed  again.  Sometime  he  would  come 
back  and  surprise  them.  The  afternoon  was  going; 
he  left  the  barn  a  little  nettled  by  his  failure,  ridicu- 
lous though  the  solution  of  the  whole  puzzle  prom- 
ised to  be. 

But  with  his  hand  on  his  saddle  he  remained 
staring  at  his  feet.  The  ground  was  of  red  clay, 
made  sticky  by  a  recent  rain.  Dotting  it,  within 
a  space  of  a  few  yards,  were  neat  round  holes  an 
inch  across  and  half  as  deep.  They  were  the  marks 
of  a  crutch.  He  identified  the  little  ridged  inden- 
tation near  the  top  of  each.  It  had  been  left  by 
a  rubber  buffer.  Such  a  buffer  his  uncle  had  had 
made  to  his  special  pattern,  to  deaden  the  clicking 
of  the  stick. 

He  reached  home  at  dusk  with  a  poor  estimate 
of  his  wits.  But  his  uncle  helped  him  to  a  conclu- 
sion. He  spoke  from  the  window  where  he  sat, 
glanced  at  David  and  turned  away  again.  After  a 
minute  he  remarked,  "  You  were  surprised  to  find 
that  the  old  barn  was  being  used  ?  " 

David  was  powerless  to  resist  a  start,  but  he 
answered,  steadily,  "  Yes."  Then,  with  sudden 
resolution,  he  faced  about.  "  Will  you  tell  me  why 
you  have  been  going  there  ?  "  he  asked. 

H3 


THE       CAPTAIN 

The  profile  against  the  dim  window  never  moved. 
"  I  will.  I  went  there  to  convince  some  of  our 
neighbours  that  the  election  was  over." 

"  You  mean  that  this  —  Democratic  Association 
meets  there?  " 

"  Yes.  And  it  can  do  no  good  now  to  stir  up 
feeling.  I  was  afraid  there  might  be  something 
of  the  kind  proposed.  I  was  mistaken." 

"They  have  given  up  the  idea?" 

"  I  cannot  say  that.  But  they  will  not  try  to 
make  trouble.  And  that  is  what  I  was  anxious 
about.  Already  we  have  too  many  men  at  large 
with  weapons  in  their  hands.  I  am  a  Democrat. 
I  do  not  wish  to  see  my  party  make  the  mistake 
of  beginning  violence." 

"  Then  you  don't  belong  to  this  association  ?  " 

It  was  not  till  afterward  that  he  realised  the 
strangeness  of  his  uncle's  failure  to  resent  the  cate- 
chising. "  No,  I  do  not  belong  to  it,"  Mr.  Mayhew 
said.  "  But  I  shall  do  what  I  can  to  counsel  its 
members.  We  are  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  Do 
you  know  it?  " 

"  I  know  we  have  elected  a  President,  and  we 
have  always  abided  by  our  choice."  David  was 
conscious  that  this  would  not  have  been  his  answer 
a  month  ago. 

"  Then  you  are  against  secession  ?  " 

"  I  voted  for  Mr.  Lincoln.  I  will  try  to  stand 
by  him." 

144 


THE       CAPTAIN 

His  uncle's  hand  went  to  his  face  and  smoothed 
his  chin.  "  So,  if  Missouri  leaves  the  Union  —  " 
he  began. 

"  She  will  not  do  it,"  David  interposed.  "  There 
are  enough  men  to  hold  her  where  she  is." 

"  And  you  are  one  of  them,  I  suppose." 

Suspicion  of  a  sneer  fired  David's  blood.  "  I 
will  do  what  I  can,"  he  returned,  hotly.  "  But 
Missouri  belongs  to  the  North,  and  there  she  will 
remain.  If  we  have  to,  we  can  do  without  the 
South." 

•  Mr.  Mayhew's  face  came  around  quickly.  "  Yes, 
yes,"  he  said.  "  You  are  right  in  that.  The  South 
can  go  its  own  way." 

David  did  not  misunderstand,  and  the  construc- 
tion placed  upon  his  words  rankled.  But  he  would 
not  dispute  it  yet. 

With  every  hour  reason  and  something  more 
subtle  than  reason  forced  him  along  the  way  upon 
which  he  had  set  foot  when  he  voted  for  Mr. 
Lincoln.  Looking  back,  each  day  he  saw  himself 
a  little  further  from  the  dividing-point  where  aboli- 
tion and  State  rights  crowded  each  other  on  a 
common  road.  Still  he  did  not  hesitate,  though  he 
moved  reluctantly,  stung  sometimes  by  reproach  at 
desertion  of  the  old  beliefs. 

But  this  reproach  did  not  assail  him  now.  He 
had  been  made  to  say  what  he  did  not  mean  or,  at 
least,  more  than  he  was  willing  to  admit.  Mr. 

145 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Mayhew's  averted  face  and  silence  were  eloquent. 
He  walked  from  the  room.  Then  as  he  changed 
his  riding-clothes,  he  noticed  the  red  clay  which 
clung  to  the  soles  of  his  boots,  and  suddenly  his 
uncle's  discovery  of  where  he  had  been  was  ex- 
plained. How  often,  he  wondered,  had  that  same 
prescience  been  the  deduction  from  as  commonplace 
an  observation. 

December  came  in  with  the  threat  from  the  South 
ever  growing  louder  and  more  insistent.  Then 
arrived  the  day  when  the  news  was  that  South 
Carolina  had  seceded.  And  at  his  feet  David  saw 
the  line  drawn.  It  came  on  him,  as  it  came  on 
thousands  of  others,  like  a  lightning  flash,  for  all 
the  mutterings  of  thunder.  For  the  time  it  left  him 
stunned.  But  when  the  smoke  still  rose  above  the 
city  to  the  north,  and  steamers  churned  the  yellow 
waves  of  the  Mississippi,  and  men  worked  in  the 
fields,  the  numbness  passed.  He  watched  and 
listened  and  waited  for  what  should  happen  next, 
surprised  that,  though  the  rift  had  started,  no  one 
had  been  hurt. 

It  was  so.  The  country  was  waiting  —  waiting 
for  the  tall,  homely  man  in  black  clothes  which  never 
fitted  him,  and  a  high  stiff  hat  which  rose  a  foot 
above  other  men  wherever  he  walked :  waiting  for 
a  man  who  turned  from  the  extended  hand  of  one 
of  the  most  powerful  politicians  in  his  State  to 
lift  a  little  girl  so  that  she  might  look  over  the  crowd 

146 


THE       CAPTAIN 

at  a  passing  band:  waiting  for  the  man  who  lis- 
tened to  many,  spoke  what  was  in  his  own  mind, 
liked  best  to  tell  a  story  at  a  corner-store,  yet  who 
had  said  he  would  rule'  a  people  seven  millions  of 
whom  were  to  be  his  bitter  enemies.  The  hand 
of  God  wields  strange  instruments. 

Boone  wrote  that,  in  his  part  of  the  country, 
business  had  come  nearly  to  a  standstill.  He  had 
some  idle  hours,  and  would  travel  down  to  St. 
Louis  and  spend  Christmas  at  Gravois.  He  would 
arrive  on  the  twenty-fourth. 

David  got  this  letter  in  the  first  part  of  the  week. 
On  Sunday  he  met  the  Doctor  outside  the  little 
church  which  the  Captain  had  helped  to  build,  and 
learned  that  Lee  would  be  home  on  Tuesday.  She 
would  bring  a  friend  with  her,  Beatrix  Pemberton, 
her  cousin. 

Kitty  Marshall  had  a  note  from  Lee  also.  "  You 
are  to  have  the  chance  you  wished  for,  David,"  she 
announced.  "  Beatrix  is  coming  to  visit  Lee.  I 
hope  she  has  been  prepared  for  conquest." 

"  Who  is  to  be  the  victim?  "  he  inquired. 

"  You.  Didn't  you  say  you  wished  she  would 
come  up  here?  And  didn't  I  remind  Lee  that  your 
fate  was  in  her  hands?  Miss  Pemberton  is  the 
girl  of  the  picture." 

"Now,  how  was  I  to  know  that?"  David  com- 
plained. "  You  wouldn't  tell  her  name.  Did  Lee 
say  how  long  she  will  be  here  ?  "  He  spoke  a  shade 


THE       CAPTAIN 

too  earnestly.  In  Kitty's  eyes  lurked  mischief.  "  I 
think  she  has  been  asked  to  stay  until  spring.  It 
will  be  a  splendid  opportunity  for  you.  I  will  help 
you.  I  am  sure  Lee  will  agree.  But  don't  be  rash, 
David.  Remember,  Beatrix  has  been  accustomed 
to  have  gentlemen  at  her  feet." 

"  Of  course  I  will  be  diplomatic,"  he  returned. 

But  the  mock  gravity  did  not  deceive  Kitty.  How 
she  delighted  to  play  at  Providence!  It  was  really 
an  unselfish  act  to  prod  David's  feelings.  He  was 
provokingly  uncommunicative.  Also  she  feared  she 
might  get  out  of  practice  otherwise.  Oswald,  strange 
to  say,  had  not  recovered  from  his  latest  dismissal. 

"  Lee  is  to  have  a  big  party  on  New  Year's  eve, 
you  know,"  she  went  on.  "  That  will  be  your 
chance.  I  am  going  to  Lee's  on  Monday  evening. 
Come  for  me  and  take  me  over." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  won't  be  able  to,"  David  answered. 
"  You  see,  Boone  is  coming  that  day,  and  I 
reckon  —  " 

"  I  reckon  he  can  go  along  with  you." 

"  No ;  Boone  has  never  met  her,  and  —  well, 
I  know  he  wouldn't  want  to  call  on  her  uninvited. 
Especially  on  the  evening  she  arrives." 

Kitty  raised  a  pretty  muff  and  rubbed  it  softly 
against  her  cheek.  Over  the  barrier  her  eyes  studied 
the  countenance  of  the  smooth-shaven,  broad-shoul- 
dered young  man,  busy  drawing  on  a  glove. 

"  Oh,"  she  murmured.     The  exclamation  struck 

148 


THE       CAPTAIN 

home.  David  did  not  look  up.  He  was  honest  with 
himself;  he  knew  he  was  a  failure  at  lying.  And 
Kitty  had  the  grace  to  suspend  the  torture  for  the 
time  being. 

When  five  o'clock  struck  on  that  Tuesday  after- 
noon, and  Lee  and  her  cousin  had  not  arrived,  the 
Doctor's  uneasiness  found  voice.  He  had  been  walk- 
ing the  length  of  the  library  floor,  picking  up  a  speci- 
men, now  and  then,  and  adjusting  his  glasses  with 
care  a  dozen  times.  "  I  should  have  gone  for  them 
myself,"  he  affirmed.  "  But  they  were  to  be  here 
at  four  o'clock,  and  Lee  insisted  I  should  not  take 
the  drive.  Old  Zack,  too,  would  have  been  sure 
I  gave  him  freedom  only  to  insult  him  if  I  had  sug- 
gested that  they  weren't  safe  when  he  was  driving." 

"  Oh,  they'll  be  here  soon,"  said  Kitty.  "  The 
road's  not  good  to  St.  Louis.  They've  had  to  drive 
slowly.  Don't  worry,  Doctor." 

She  proved  a  prophet.  Five  minutes  later,  peer- 
ing from  the  window,  she  declared  she  heard  the 
sound  of  wheels.  The  Doctor  hastened  to  the  door. 

A  voice  from  the  porch  called,  "  All  right,  father ! 
Here  we  are."  Then  Lee  was  in  his  arms,  her  hands 
clasped  behind  his  neck.  But  she  quickly  disengaged 
herself.  "  Father,  here  is  Beatrix." 

Kitty  delighted  in  a  pretty  girl  above  every- 
thing else,  unless  it  was  tormenting  those  she  liked. 
"  Oh,  she  is  splendid ! "  she  told  Lee  afterward. 
"  I  always  despised  red  hair.  But  hers !  Tt  isn't 

149 


THE       CAPTAIN 

red,  it's  bronze.  And  her  eyes!  They  are  the 
duskiest,  daringest  eyes  I  ever  saw.  That  picture 
you  sent  —  pooh!  I  don't  see  how  a  man  could 
do  anything  but  fall  in  love  with  her." 

Lee  made  light  of  their  delay  in  reaching  home. 
"  The  road  was  bad,"  she  explained  to  the  Doctor. 
"  The  horses  didn't  like  it.  Once  we  had  to  stop 
and  quiet  them.  You  see  I  am  all  here,  Daddy. 
No  pieces  lost.  Beatrix  is  as  whole  as  when  she 
left  Vicksburg,  —  only  very  tired." 

But  when  the  three  girls  were  in  Lee's  room,  — 
for  Kitty  was  to  remain  overnight,  and  that 
mysterious  process  had  begun  which  admits  of 
many  pauses  and  invites  confidences,  the  combing 
of  hair,  —  Lee  told  the  facts,  or  at  least  as  much  of 
them  as  she  wished. 

"  It  was  so  exciting,"  she  said.  "  It  wasn't  any 
use  to  worry  father  with  it.  But  we  had  a 
runaway.  Such  a  one!  And  there  was  a  man 
in  it." 

Kitty,  curled  on  the  edge  of  the  sofa,  rocked 
in  anticipation.  "Who  was  he?" 

"  I  never  saw  him  before,"  answered  Lee.  "  It 
was  when  we  were  two  miles  from  home.  The 
carriage  struck  a  rut,  and  bumped  against  one  of 
the  horses.  Old  Zack  tried  to  hold  him,  but  he 
got  hold  of  the  bit  somehow,  and  they  both  began 
running.  The  road  was  dreadfully  rough.  Beatrix 
and  I  just  hung  on  to  each  other  and  were  jerked 

150 


THE       CAPTAIN 

back  and  forth.  The  carriage  rolled,  and  I  expected 
it  would  topple  over.  We  couldn't  do  anything. 
I  knew  if  Old  Zack  couldn't  pull  the  horses  in,  it 
was  pretty  bad.  So  we  tried  to  stay  where  we  were 
and  waited.  Every  minute  it  got  worse.  Old  Zack 
kept  yelling  '  Whoa ! '  and  then  he  began  talking 
to  himself.  That  scared  me  for  sure.  I  knew  he 
was  frightened  then.  But,  all  at  once,  we  passed 
a  man  on  horseback.  He  had  stopped  at  the  side 
of  the  road.  We  heard  him  call  out.  Then  we 
could  hear  his  horse  galloping  on  the  road  behind. 
Suddenly  he  shot  by  us,  and  got  hold  of  the  head 
stall  of  the  nearest  horse.  And  "  —  with  brush 
suspended  — "  what  do  you  suppose  happened 
then?" 

"What?"  Kitty  was  in  imminent  danger  of 
pitching  to  the  floor. 

"  He  was  jerked  right  off  his  horse.  It  was 
dark,  but  we  could  see  him  fall.  Beatrix  screamed. 
I  did,  too.  But  he  didn't  let  go  of  the  bridle.  We 
saw  him  fighting  with  the  horse.  Then  he  got 
the  best  of  him,  and  the  carriage  slid  sideways 
so  it  pretty  nearly  upset.  But  we  had  stopped.  We 
were  so  frightened  we  never  moved.  Zack  gave  me 
the  reins,  and  got  out  to  look  at  the  horses.  He  and 
the  man  stood  there,  pulling  at  the  harness  and  pat- 
ting the  horses,  and  talking.  We  could  hear  the 
man's  voice  plainly.  It  was  deep,  and  he  spoke 


THE       CAPTAIN 

slowly.  But  that  must  have  been  because  he  hadn't 
much  breath  left." 

"  But  you  saw  him  ?  He  came  to  the  carriage, 
didn't  he?" 

"Yes,  he  came  over  and  stood  at  the  door.  '  I  hope 
you  are  not  hurt,'  he  said.  I  told  him  we  weren't,  and 
we  couldn't  say  how  thankful  we  were  to  him.  He 
said  it  wasn't  anything.  Then  I  noticed  blood  run- 
ning down  his  cheek.  Beatrix  had  turned  her  head. 
She  says  she  can't  stand  the  sight  of  blood.  I 
asked  him  to  let  me  bandage  the  cut  for  him.  He 
said  he  wouldn't  bother  me  to  do  that,  but  I  made 
him  get  one  of  the  candles  out  of  the  carriage- 
lamp.  Then  he  came  close  to  the  window  with  the 
candle.  And  then  "  —  pointing  with  the  hair-brush 
dramatically  —  "  Kitty,  that  was  the  last  we  saw 
of  him." 

"  What !    What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean,"  said  Lee,  facing  the  bed,  "  I  mean 
that  he  stumbled,  dropped  the  candle  in  the  road, 
said  something  about  his  awkwardness,  and  that  he 
must  find  his  horse,  anyhow.  The  next  moment 
he  was  gone." 

"He  didn't  comeback?" 

"  That's  just  it.  He  never  came  back.  We  drove 
on  after  a  few  minutes." 

"  Well,  of  all  the  things ! "  remarked  Miss 
Marshall.  "  You  don't  suppose  he  was  so  badly 

152 


*'  Kitty,  that  was  the  last  we  saw  of  him  " 


THE       CAPTAIN 

hurt  he  went  off  —  to  die  alone?"  with  trembling 
voice. 

"  Now  don't  be  silly,  Kitty,"  severely.  "  He  left, 
but  he  was  quite  able  to  walk  and  ride,  too.  He 
probably  went  on  wherever  he  was  going." 

"He  might  have  been  a  robber,  and  his  heart 
relented  when  he  saw  the  horses  go  by,  and  knew 
you  must  be  dreadfully  frightened,"  suggested  Kitty. 

Miss  Marshall!  Miss  Marshall!  Were  senses 
ever  so  awake  to  suspicion,  or  tactics  so  adroit  as 
yours?  Yet  you  failed.  Failed  if  you  thought  to 
draw  out  that  third  figure  in  white  which  sat  with 
back  to  you  on  a  low  chair  and  spoke  not  a  word, 
as  you  long  ago  had  noticed.  The  fingers  which 
wove  among  the  bronze  hair  rippling  to  the  floor 
gave  no  sign  that  their  owner  heard.  And  the 
mirror  was  turned  the  wrong  way  to  reflect  whatever 
she  trusted  to  it. 

Even  when  you  asked  so  carelessly,  "  Miss  Pem- 
berton,  what  do  you  think  ?  "  there  was  the  briefest 
pause  in  the  ministrations  of  the  comb  while  a  com- 
posed voice  replied,  "  What  can  I  think  ?  Lee  has 
told  the  story.  I  surely  was  frightened.  I  saw 
very  little." 

"  You  must  have  been.  I  don't  wonder,"  re- 
turned Kitty,  sympathetically.  There  was  admira- 
tion in  her  heart,  but  it  was  not  so  much  for  the 
sweeping  lines  of  the  tall,  white  figure  which  now 
stood  facing  her,  the  sleeve  fallen  away  from  a 

153 


THE       CAPTAIN 

round  arm  raised  to  coil  the  hair.  Kitty  had  met 
her  match.  Lee's  dignity  and  proud  resentment 
she  respected.  Diplomacy  challenged  her  admira- 
tion even  when  it  baffled  her. 

When  Beatrix  had  departed  to  her  room,  Lee  was 
very  quiet,  and  Kitty  thought  she  had  gone  to 
sleep,  when  suddenly  she  raised  herself  on  an  elbow. 
"  Kitty,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  if  I  tell  you 
something,  will  you  promise  you'll  never  say  any- 
thing about  it?  " 

"  Of  course  I  promise."  A  dimpled  hand  con- 
cealed something  that  might  have  been  the  beginning 
of  a  yawn,  but  was  not. 

"Well,  then, — Beatrix  knew  the  man  who  stopped 
our  horses.  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Kitty,  quietly.    "  I  knew  that." 

Lee  uttered  no  reproach.  "  But  what  does  it 
mean?  "  she  asked. ' 

"  It  means,"  answered  Miss  Marshall,  "  that  I  in- 
tend to  find  out  who  the  man  is." 


154 


IX 

ONE  NEW 
YEAR'S  NIGHT 

WHEN   Boone  did   not   come   that   night, 
David  decided   that  he  would  be  down 
the  next  day.     With  the  next  day  came 
Christmas,  but  not  Boone.     Instead,  a  letter  from 
St.  Louis.     Boone  had  been  unexpectedly  recalled 
home.     He  was  mightily  sorry.     But  what  could 
a  fellow  do?     It  looked  as  if  he  was  to  be  busy, 
perhaps  for  a  month. 

David  did  not  reflect  upon  the  physical  phenome- 
non which  so  suddenly  demanded  the  constant  ser- 
vices of  a  physician  a  day  ago  absolutely  idle. 
He  was  disappointed.  But  the  day  following  he  got 
a  note  which  made  him  reconsider.  It  was  written 
on  a  small  square  of  tinted  paper.  He  read  it 
quickly,  and  put  it  into  his  coat  pocket.  He  read 
it  again  that  night.  And  after  each  reading  he 
frowned  and  said  "  No,"  emphatically.  But  by  the 
next  morning  he  forgot  the  "  No,"  and,  by  after- 
noon, he  was  of  such  cheerful  mind  that  he  sat  down 

155 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  with  rueful  smile  wrote  a  reply  addressed  to 
Miss  Shirley. 

Kitty  asked  him  if  he  was  going  to  the  New 
Year's  party.  "  Of  course,"  he  said.  He  looked 
at  her  so  challengingly  that  she  would  have  been 
afraid  if  she  had  been  any  one  else  but  herself.  As  it 
was,  her  eyes  were  maliciously  reminiscent,  though 
she  contented  herself  with  a  quiet,  "  Oh,  nothing. 
I  knew  you  would  go." 

David  would  have  been  pleased  at  that  moment 
if  she  had  been  a  man.  Was  there  any  reason  why 
he  should  not  go,  he  asked  himself.  Of  course  not. 
She  had  asked  him  to  come.  It  was  his  duty  to  an 
old  friend  to  go. 

The  New  Year's  party  was  a  great  occasion. 
There  were  two  fiddlers  from  St.  Louis,  besides 
Lee's  piano.  Unsanctified  hands  were  laid  on  the 
Doctor's  treasures.  Lee  tied  her  father's  cravat  and 
patted  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  The  handsomest  man 
we  will  have,"  she  said,  cocking  her  head  critically, 
and  standing  off  to  view  him. 

His  eyes  twinkled  through  the  glasses.  "  Not 
excepting  even  David  ?  " 

"  Oh,  David  is  a  very  old  friend,"  she  answered, 
with  wisdom.  Something  immediately  made  her 
face  burn,  and  she  turned  to  the  mirror  for  one 
last  touch  to  the  lace  scarf  which  had  slipped  from 
her  shoulders.  There  was  a  rose  in  the  puffs  of 
her  hair.  She  straightened  it  with  a  smile  of  sat- 

156 


THE       CAPTAIN 

isfaction,  and  made  a  curtsy  to  the  glass.  "  I  have 
no  business  to  be  nice  to  you,"  she  said,  under  her 
breath.  Which  was  a  strange  remark  for  a  young 
lady  to  make  to  her  own  reflection. 

A  charming  picture  it  was,  David  told  himself 
that  night.  She  stood  at  the  end  of  the  room.  A 
multitude  of  mysterious  little  ruffles  ran  around  her 
gown.  She  looked  at  him  sideways  as  he  drew 
near.  "  Why,  it's  David,"  she  said,  softly.  She 
held  out  both  hands.  Perhaps  they  lingered  in 
his  clasp.  Kitty,  near  by,  declared  she  counted  ten. 
"Oh,  why  can't  he  always  wear  that  coat?"  she 
said,  afterward.  "  He  is  so  broad !  He  holds  him- 
self this  way."  She  walked  across  the  room.  A 
certain  tall  young  man  with  smooth  face  and  square 
chin  would  have  walked  more  humbly  had  he  been 
present  to  see. 

But  he  never  knew  that  she  was  looking.  It 
might  have  been  that  he  was  not  looking  for  her. 
"  Lee,"  he  said,  "  you've  been  growing  up." 

"  And  you  don't  like  it  ?  I  hoped  I  wasn't  doing 
it  badly." 

"  You're  not.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how  well 
you  do  it.  To-night  especially.  But  you  haven't 
given  me  a  fair  chance.  You've  been  away  so 
much.  Now,"  he  comprehended  her  figure  with 
a  glance,  "  won't  you  dance  -with  me?  " 

"  Not  now.  I  am  a  very  important  person  here 
to-night." 

157 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  You  ought  to  be  generous.  Remember,  you 
banished  me  —  " 

She  held  up  a  rebuking  finger.  "  Don't  talk  of 
that."  Then  she  spoke  about  his  work.  Had  he 
secured  that  position  in  the  county  office? 

"  I  shall  start  in  April,"  he  said.  "  The  place  is 
promised  to  me."  He  began  to  tell  her  of  his 
plans.  Did  they  both  forget  that  she  was  the  host- 
ess ?  David  started  when  a  voice  at  his  elbow  spoke 
her  name,  and  he  turned  to  see  Philip  Randolph. 
A  gentleman  Philip  looked,  •  and  something  of  a 
dandy  besides,  in  his  black  coat  and  ruffled  shirt. 

Unreasonably  enough,  David's  impulse  was  to 
demand  why  this  gentleman  was  present.  But  he 
shook  hands  civilly,  and  went  away,  to  muse  and 
have  his  aggravation  increased  at  the  sight  of  Lee's 
laughing  face  over  Philip's  shoulder  as  they  swept 
by.  So  this  was  what  had  postponed  the  dance 
which  he  had  asked  for !  It  must  have  been  promised 
by  letter.  He  had  had  no  idea  Philip  was  to  come. 
It  was  a  long  journey  from  Mississippi.  These 
were  distinctly  irritating  inferences. 

Mississippi,  however,  sent  something  very  stun- 
ning. A  tall  young  woman  with  dark  eyes  which 
burned  you,  and  white  shoulders  gleaming  from 
the  meshes  of  a  black  gown.  Ah,  she  was  dan- 
gerous !  And  partners,  how  many  had  she !  David 
talked  to  her  in  a  corner  between  dances.  She 
knew  many  things  about  him,  it  seemed.  "  It  is 

158 


THE       CAPTAIN 

mighty  good  to  find  a  man  I  don't  have  to  begin 
an  acquaintance  with,"  she  confided.  "  You  see, 
we've  talked  about  you,  Lee  and  I,  —  Mr.  Ford. 
'  Mr.  Ford  '  ?  How  strange  that  sounds !  —  What 
was  it  we  called  you  ?  David  ?  Of  course,  that  was 
it  —  David !  "  She  leaned  back,  regarding  him  from 
over  her  fan  with  wicked  satisfaction. 

He  answered  gravely,  and  she  continued  to  smile. 
Then,  with  a  little  flicker  of  her  lips,  she  closed  the 
fan,  and  began  to  speak  about  those  who  were  pass- 
ing. He  must  tell  her  who  they  were.  It  was  so 
hard  to  remember  some  names.  He  must  consider 
himself  an  old  friend  of  hers,  and  she  would 
depend  on  him.  So  he  began  to  tell  her  of  Kitty 
and  Oswald,  and  Nina  Rennert,  and  the  others, 
and  presently  mentioned  Boone.  "  I  wanted  him  to 
meet  you,"  he  said.  "  He  has  seen  your  picture. 
Miss  Marshall  had  it.  I  know  you  would  like 
him." 

"  Would  I?    So  he  saw  my  picture?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  thought  it  was  a  good  portrait.  But 
I  see  now  that  it  is  not  so  good." 

She  took  her  revenge  by  raising  her  brows  and 
saying  nothing,  and  he  repeated,  "  I  wish  Boone 
could  have  met  you.  You'd  be  great  friends." 

"  Oh,  would  we?  "  The  fan  never  stopped  wav- 
ing. "  At  least  I  should  like  to  see  him.  Where 
is  he?" 

"  He  could  not  come  to-night.     He  was  invited, 

159 


THE       CAPTAIN 

but  at  the  last  moment  was  prevented  by  —  an 
engagement." 

"  A  professional  call  ?  " 

"  You  knew  he  was  a  doctor?  " 

"  Didn't  you  say  so  ?  No  ?  Then  Lee  must  have 
told  me.  A  young  doctor  with  a  large  practice? 
How  strange!  So  unselfish  of  him,  too,  to  give  up 
a  party  like  this."  Her  voice  qualified  the  eulogy. 

"  He  would  have  come  if  he  could,  you  may  be 
sure."  David  flushed. 

"  No  doubt.  And  he  must  be  interesting,  and  all 
that,  from  what  you  say.  How  sad  to  have  missed 
him!  Do  you  reckon  I'll  survive?" 

There  was  a  glint  in  David's  eyes  and  a  retort 
trembled  on  his  lips,  when  Oswald  came  up  and  laid 
claim  to  the  dance  which  had  begun.  David  rose 
and  bowed  stiffly.  She  smiled.  "Don't  be  angry! 
You  look  so  terrifying,  and  I  want  to  talk  to  you 
again." 

But  he  was  not  appeased,  and  Kitty,  seeing  him 
stalk  by,  laughed  softly.  "  Oh,  what  has  put  that 
poker  down  David's  back  ?  " 

Half  an  hour  later  he  was  passing  a  doorway 
when  a  fan  was  laid  lightly  on  his  shoulder.  "  Mr. 
Ford  —  Mr.  David  Ford,"  some  one  said,  "  I  am 
very  tired  of  dancing."  It  was  Beatrix. 

"  Can  I  be  of  service?  "  he  inquired. 

"  No,  no.  Of  course  not.  I  touched  you  only 
to  hear  you  growl." 

1 60 


THE       CAPTAIN 

His  grimness  melted.  "  Did  I  look  as  glum  as 
that?  I  ask  your  pardon." 

"  Well,  since  you  have  done  so,  you  can  take 
me  over  to  —  let  me  see!  Some  nice  comfortable 
place  where  we  can  watch  them  all.  Yes,  our  old 
corner." 

Our  corner!  He  looked  at  her  suspiciously, 
but  her  eyes  were  innocently  wide  open,  and  he 
went  with  her.  A  lamb  to  the  slaughter,  Kitty 
would  have  said.  There  was  nothing  of  the  martyr 
in  his  bearing.  But  he  was  sure  of  one  thing: 
Boone's  name  should  not  cross  his  lips.  Who  can 
explain,  then,  how  it  happened?  She  asked  him 
a  question,  he  answered,  and  Boone's  name  had 
come  up.  "  Perhaps,  after  all  —  "  she  conceded. 

"  You  will  like  him  ?  Of  course  you  will.  But 
there's  one  thing  you  mustn't  mention,  if  you  would 
agree." 

"And  that  is?" 

"  Slavery.  He  is  what  you  call  a  Black  Republi- 
can, I  suppose." 

Her  eyes  blazed.  "  A  Black  Republican !  I  hate 
them  all!" 

David  laughed.  "Then  what  will  you  say  of 
me?  I  voted  for  Lincoln  myself." 

"  And  you  are  against  secession  ?  You  believe 
that  some  States  have  the  right  to  bully  others  — 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  wickedness  ?  " 


161 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  I  haven't  crossed  that  bridge  yet.  But  we  don't 
have  to  fight  about  it." 

"  Yes,  we  will.  We  will  fight  about  it  before 
long.  The  South  won't  stand  it." 

The  fan  ceased  waving.  She  was  sitting  up, 
straight  and  wrathful. 

"  Why,  you  look  as  if  you  would  take  a  hand  in 
the  fighting  yourself,"  he  remarked. 

"  I  will,"  she  answered,  passionately.  "  I  will, 
when  the  time  comes.  If  I  can  do  anything  to  help 
the  South  to  whip  the  North  I  will  quick  enough." 
Then  her  lip  curled.  "  But  we  won't  need  women 
for  that.  We  have  men  —  down  in  Mississippi." 

"  Well,  the  North  has  some  men,  too." 

"  Men,"  she  repeated.  "  Yes,  it  has  some,  I 
reckon.  But  most  of  those  I've  seen  I  wouldn't 
give  that  for !  "  The  fan  clicked  contemptuously. 
"  They're  too  busy." 

"  Busy !  "  he  repeated.  Then,  gravely,  "  Yes,  busy 
trying  to  keep  the  peace." 

"  And  to  buy  and  sell,"  she  added.  "  It  is  about 
all  the  North  thinks  of.  Well,  let  it  go  ahead. 
But  let  it  stay  up  here.  Don't  come  South.  If 
you  do,  we'll  surely  chase  you  out." 

David  smiled.  "  I'm  glad  of  the  advice.  If  I 
should  come  down  your  way,  I'll  steer  clear  of 
Mississippi.  And  I'll  tell  Boone  to  do  the  same,  if 
you'll  let  me." 


162 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Tell  him,  by  all  means.  But  I  reckon  the  warn- 
ing isn't  needed  in  his  case." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  He  has  a  habit  of 
doing  his  own  way." 

"Now,  has  he?"  she  said,  and  was  silent  a 
moment.  Then  she  remarked,  "  You  think  a  great 
deal  of  this  friend  of  yours?  Boone,  as  you  call 
him."  Her  voice  had  dropped. 

'  You  would  not  ask  that  if  you  knew  him." 

"  If  I  knew  him  ?  "  she  repeated,  almost  to  herself. 
"  Well,  forget  I  was  angry  just  now,  and  tell  me 
something.  What  is  he  like  ?  " 

He  searched  her  face  and  saw  that  she  was 
serious.  It  was  not  easy  to  begin,  but  once  started, 
he  went  on  warmly  and  finished,  "  A  great,  big- 
hearted,  good-looking  fellow,  as  honest  as  the 
day,  and  always  ready  to  do  a  good  turn  for  any 
one.  We  went  to  college  together.  We  lived  to- 
gether for  two  years.  I  never  saw  him  do  a  thing 
that  wasn't  square.  Now  he's  at  a  sort  of  hospital 
up  in  Galena,  Illinois,  working  hard,  and  always 
looking  on  the  bright  side  of  things.  But  it's  mighty 
slow  and  discouraging  for  him.  Besides,  he  hasn't 
been  treated  right.  There  was  a  girl  —  "  He  shut 
his  lips  with  a  frown. 

"  Yes  ?  "  She  drew  her  fan  between  her  fingers 
while  watching  him  from  under  lowered  lids. 

He  was  looking  out  into  the  room.  "  That  is 
all." 

163 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  But  there  must  be  more.    I  was  —  interested." 

"  It  is  not  my  story  to  tell." 

There  was  a  pause  before  she  spoke.  "  I  can 
hardly  believe  that.  At  least,  it  was  your  story  to 
hear.  He  told  it  to  you,  it  seems." 

"  You  don't  understand.    He  —  " 

"  No,"  she  interrupted.  "  I  don't  understand. 
Where  I  came  from,  men  don't  repeat  all  that  hap- 
pens to  them."  She  paused,  and  finished  lightly, 
"  But  it  is  no  concern  of  mine.  Pray,  don't  abuse 
a  confidence.  The  girl  was  a  fool.  Such  a  man !  " 
with  scornful  emphasis. 

At  two  o'clock  that  night  Lee  was  almost  asleep 
when  Kitty  asked,  "  Lee,  did  you  ever  meet  the  man 
who  is  engaged  to  Beatrix  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't.  He  was  away  when  I  was  in 
Vicksburg.  But  he  was  described  to  me." 

"  What  does  he  look  like?  " 

"  Like  no  one  I  know.    He's  tall  and  dark." 

"  And  they  are  really  engaged  ?  " 

"  Beatrix  never  said  so.  I  think  they  are,  from 
what  I  heard." 

"  Oh !  "  There  was  a  little  silence.  Then  from 
the  same  restless  person,  "  I  wish  Doctor  Hadley 
had  been  able  to  come  to-night.  I  was  talking  to 
David  about  him." 

"  Yes,"  drowsily. 

After  another  pause,  "  I  wish  you  could  find  out 

164 


THE       CAPTAIN 

who  stopped  your  horses  the  night  that  Beatrix 
arrived." 

"  Oh,  go  to  sleep,  won't  you?  " 

There  was  a  longer  silence.  Then  a  laugh  smoth- 
ered in  a  pillow.  Lee  raised  her  head  in  protest. 
"  Kitty,  what  is  the  matter?  " 

"  Nothing.  I  was  just  thinking  how  foolish  some 
people  are." 

It  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  second  week  in 
January  that  the  Captain  came  down  to  St.  Louis 
on  business  for  the  leather  firm.  David  was  in  the 
city  for  an  interview  with  one  of  the  officials.  It 
was  settled  now  that  he  was  to  have  the  place  to 
be  vacant  in  the  county  engineer's  office  in  May. 
Also  he  carried  a  letter  for  his  uncle  to  a  lawyer. 
Correspondence  over  Mr.  Mayhew's  cotton  interests 
had  increased  during  the  winter.  David  met  the 
Captain  by  chance  in  the  Planters'  Hotel. 

The  Captain  had  the  look  of  a  man  who  was 
thinking  a  great  deal.  And  his  clothes  were  seedy. 
He  clung  to  the  rough  felt  hat  and  cape  coat.  But 
his  hand-shake  was  firm  and  his  voice  hearty.  He 
said  business  was  as  good  as  could  be  expected. 
He  hoped  to  be  made  a  partner  in  the  leather  house 
soon.  But  the  situation  generally  was  threatening. 

"  You're  thinking  about  secession?  "  David  asked. 

"  Yes.  I  don't  understand  why  these  States  secede. 


165 


THE       CAPTAIN 

It's  suicide.  But  it  looks  as  if  five  of  them  would 
go  out." 

"Five?" 

"  Yes."  The  Captain  named  them.  "  They  will 
hold  a  convention  in  Montgomery,  they  say,"  he 
went  on.  His  brow  knitted.  "  It's  a  bad  outlook. 
It  never  should  have  gone  this  far.  It's  the  fault 
of  the  old  granny  we  have  down  in  Washington. 
He's  done  harm  enough.  But  I'm  afraid  he'll  do 
something  worse  before  he's  out  of  the  way,  and 
give  the  States  that  secede  the  sympathy  of  the 
whole  South." 

"  But  he's  refused  to  surrender  Fort  Sumter. 
Perhaps  he'll  stick  it  out  till  March." 

The  Captain  smiled.  "  It  don't  look  that  way 
to  me.  United  States  forts  seized  in  Alabama, 
Georgia,  and  Florida,  and  a  United  States  garrison 
forced  to  evacuate  Fort  Moultrie.  That's  close  to 
war.  Why  haven't  we  a  man  for  President  ?  " 

"  We  will  have  soon.     Lincoln !  " 

"  Yes,  Lincoln."  The  Captain  repeated  the  name, 
and  went  on,  "  The  man  who  Senator  Toombs  says 
is  an  enemy  to  the  whole  human  race.  If  he  is, 
we  will  soon  see.  He  has  a  hard  job  to  tackle." 

"  And  he's  equal  to  it,"  returned  David.  "  Be- 
sides," he  added,  "  it  may  not  come  to  the  worst.  I 
reckon  there's  a  good  deal  more  talk  than  fight 
in  the  South." 

The  Captain's  look  was  slow  and  steady.  "  You're 

1 66 


THE       CAP'TAIN 

coming  on,  David,"  he  said.  "You'll  be  ready 
when  you're  needed.  But  don't  make  any  mistake 
about  these  Southerners.  They  do  bluster;  they 
can't  help  it.  It's  their  way.  But  they  can  fight, 
also.  Both  sides  are  wrong  in  one  thing.  Each 
thinks  the  other  isn't  half  as  good  as  it  really  is." 

He  fell  to  chewing  on  his  cigar  in  silence,  then 
took  it  from  his  mouth,  and  while  he  turned  it  in 
his  fingers  regarded  it  critically.  His  head  had 
dropped  a  little  to  one  side,  after  his  old  habit. 
"  But  they'll  find  all  that  out  when  the  time  comes," 
he  said,  partly  to  himself.  "  And  it  won't  be  long 
till  then,  I  believe." 

David  was  on  his  way  home  from  a  ride  the 
following  afternoon  when  from  a  cross-road  turned 
the  light  wagon  in  which  his  uncle  rode.  Mr.  May- 
hew  was  alone.  His  crippled  figure  was  hunched 
up  on  the  seat.  His  eyelids  quivered,  and  his  hands 
were  restless.  But  David  asked  no  question  as  he 
rode  by  the  side  of  the  carriage. 

Presently,  Mr.  Mayhew  leaned  forward.  His 
mouth  was  twitching.  "  David,"  he  said,  "  they'll 
never  be  able  to  stop  it  now.  It's  secession  for  the 
whole  South.  They  tried  to  send  a  steamer  with 
supplies  and  Union  troops  to  Fort  Sumter.  The 
guns  at  Charleston  fired  on  her.  They  drove  her 
back." 

"  They  shot  at  her  ?  "  repeated  David,  incredu- 
lously. "The  rebels?"  The  word  slipped  off  his 

167 


THE       CAPTAIN 

tongue  without  notice.  He  bent  forward  in  his 
saddle,  the  blood  had  run  from  his  face. 

"  Yes.  But  it  was  the  people  of  South  Carolina 
who  did  it.  They  are  not  rebels.  South  Carolina 
is  a  sovereign  State." 

"How  do  you  know  that  this  has  happened?" 
David  asked. 

"  It  came  to  me,  through  one  of  my  business 
correspondents." 

"  You're  sure  it  is  true?  " 

"  Quite  sure." 

After  that  they  rode  without  speaking.  When 
they  reached  the  house,  Mr.  Mayhew  went  inside. 
David  stood  on  the  porch  as  the  carriage  was  driven 
away.  Something  made  him  stare  at  the  wheels 
of  the  vehicle.  To  the  edge  of  the  tires  clung  a 
coating  of  red  clay.  He  knew  where  clay  like  that 
came  from.  Once  he  had  found  it  on  the  soles  of 
his  own  shoes.  A  discovery  had  come  of  its  pres- 
ence there.  He  walked  swiftly  into  the  house.  But 
with  his  hand  on  the  door  of  his  uncle's  room,  he 
halted,  then  turned  away.  It  would  do  no  good, 
he  reflected.  His  uncle  would  explain  it  as  he  had 
once  before. 

The  next  morning  he  met  Kitty  riding. 
"  David !  "  she  cried.  "  They  have  had  great 
excitement  at  Lee's.  Beatrix  got  a  telegram  yes- 
terday afternoon.  She  packed  up  and  went  to  St. 
Louis  last  evening.  Mr.  Randolph,  her  cousin, 

1 68 


THE       CAPTAIN 

is  to  meet  her  there  and  take  her  home.  She  wouldn't 
say  why  she  had  to  go,  but  they  couldn't  persuade 
her  to  stay.  And,  —  oh,  yes.  She  left  a  message 
for  you." 

"For  me?" 

"  Yes.  She  said  you'd  be  given  a  welcome  when- 
ever you  came  South.  What  did  she  mean  ?  " 

He  evaded  the  question. 

But  that  afternoon  the  news  made  her  meaning 
clear,  if  that  was  needed.  Mississippi  had  seceded 
from  the  Union. 


169 


X 

THE  SPARK 

AT  twenty  minutes  of  five  o'clock  on  a  Friday 
morning  in  April,  1861,  a  man  in  one  of 
the  batteries  of  Charleston  harbour  trained  a 
gun  on  a  pile  of  masonry  above  which  floated  a 
strip  of  red,  white,  and  blue  bunting,  and  fired  it. 
The  shot  fell  into  the  water,  and  the  water  seethed 
and  closed  over  it.  A  cloud  of  white  smoke  drifted 
down  the  wind,  and  was  gone.  The  report  of  the 
shot  resounded  in  every  city  and  village,  in  every 
prairie  and  mountain  settlement,  the  country  over. 
For  four  years  it  beat  upon  the  ears  of  men.  In 
the  voice  of  the  old  fellow  with  straggling  gray 
beard  and  those  bronze  medals  pinned  to  his  breast, 
you  may  hear  it  to-day. 

Boone  heard  the  echo  of  the  shot  in  his  little 
office  at  noon  of  that  same  day  as  he  dosed  a  bag 
of  instruments  and  started  on  his  way  to  a  patient. 
The  Captain  heard  it  as  he  lifted  a  bundle  of  rough, 
tanned  leather  to  carry  it  across  the  pavement  into 
the  store.  The  leather  slipped  to  the  tailboard  of 

170 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  wagon.  The  Captain's  back  straightened,  and 
he  pulled  off  his  slouch-hat.  "  It  has  come,"  he 
said.  Then  he  lifted  the  leather  again,  and  bore 
it  inside  the  building.  There  was  no  more  business 
that  day.  From  the  hillsides  came  down  women 
with  aprons  flung  over  their  heads  and  children 
hanging  to  their  skirts.  Wagons  were  left  in  the 
streets. 

In  the  leather  store  the  Captain  sat  on  a  box, 
and  visitors  thronged  through  the  doors.  Every 
one  knew  the  store;  it  had  been  a  meeting-place 
for  a  long  time.  Many  knew  that  the  square-built, 
brown-bearded  man  in  rough  clothes  and  a  stained 
apron  had  once  been  in  the  army.  "  What  was  to 
happen  ?  Will  Sumter  hold  out  ?  " 

"  Major  Anderson  says  his  provisions  will  be  ex- 
hausted by  the  fifteenth,"  the  Captain  answered.  He 
had  lighted  a  big  cigar,  and  he  chewed  on  it  without 
pause.  His  head  was  craned  forward,  and  his  eyes 
jerked  toward  the  doorway  each  time  it  was  dark- 
ened. He  was  excited.  No  one  had  seen  him  so 
before. 

At  supper-time,  Boone,  his  bag  still  in  his  hand, 
climbed  two  hundred  feet  in  the  air  to  the  top  of 
a  bluff  on  the  north  side  of  the  town.  There  was 
a  small  brick  house  behind  a  fence  of  palings.  The 
Captain  stood  in  the  doorway,  scanning  the  street. 
He  was  still  biting  on  a  cigar.  He  hailed  Boone. 
"  Any  more  news  ?  " 

171 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  No.  They  were  still  firing  on  the  fort,  the  last 
I  heard." 

The  Captain  turned  his  cigar  in  his  mouth,  and 
led  the  way  into  the  house.  After  supper  they  went 
down  to  the  main  street. 

The  morning  sun  was  sparkling  in  the  windows 
of  the  little  house  when  the  Captain  began  his  climb 
to  the  top  of  the  bluff  again.  Sumter  still  held  out. 

As  he  shook  hands  with  Boone,  he  said,  "  I 
believed  I  had  done  being  a  soldier.  But  I  was 
wrong.  The  United  States  government  gave  me 
an  education.  If  I  know  anything  which  can  be 
of  service  to  the  government,  I  think  I  ought  to 
offer  it." 

This  was  on  Saturday  morning.  On  Monday 
came  the  message,  "  Sumter  has  surrendered!  " 

Posters  were  stuck  up  along  the  main  street.  They 
called  for  'a  meeting  at  the  court-house  the  following 
evening.  At  sundown  on  that  day,  a  band  paraded 
the  street.  The  American  flag  floated  at  its  head. 
It  wound  its  way  along  by  the  river  which  cut  the 
town  in  two.  There  were  cheers  for  the  flag.  Per- 
haps there  were  tears  also. 

But  there  were  no  tears  in  the  Captain's  eyes. 
His  face  was  lined,  his  hat  pulled  down  over 
the  brow.  Some  one  saw  him  as  he  passed,  and 
jerked  a  thumb  toward  him.  "  There  goes  a  queer 
man.  They  say  he  was  a  first-rate  soldier  once. 
He's  a  back  number  now,  by  the  looks  of  him." 

172 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Boone  met  the  Captain  near  the  little  brick  church 
which  they  both  attended.  It  was  there,  on  the 
Sunday  following  that  memorable  Monday  in  the 
April  on  which  Abraham  Lincoln  swore  to  maintain 
the  Union  against  all  enemies,  that  he  had  told  the 
Captain  a  story.  "  Do  you  remember  the  8th  of 
September,  1847?"  he  asked. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Captain.  "  We  started  in 
at  Molinos  del  Rey  that  morning." 

"  And  do  you  remember  an  old  mill  back  of  the 
fortress  ?  " 

"  I  do."    The  Captain  smiled.    "  But  you  don't." 

"  Hardly.  But  I  know  some  one  who  did  re- 
member it.  He  came  into  the  door  of  the  old  mill 
just  as  a  Mexican  raised  his  musket  to  fire  on  him. 
You  sprang  on  the  Mexican.  The  bullet  went  wide. 
The  man  in  the  doorway  was  my  father.  My  name 
is  Hadley  —  Boone  Hadley." 

The  Captain  grasped  Boone's  hand.  He  scanned 
his  face.  "  You  look  a  little  as  he  looked  then,"  he 
said.  "  But  you're  bigger.  I  haven't  seen  him  for 
ten  years." 

"  No,  he  left  the  army.  He  died  two  years  ago 
—  here." 

They  went  back  together  from  the  church.  Boone 
ate  a  Sunday  dinner  in  the  house  on  the  top  of 
the  ridge.  He  had  made  a  friend. 

Now  they  walked  together  along  the  main  street, 
following  the  flag,  and  came  to  the  court-house. 

173 


THE       CAPTAIN 

It  was  a  good-sized  stone  building,  but  it  was  packed 
with  excited  men.  The  Captain  worked  his  way  in. 
Boone  and  he  found  a  place  in  the  back  of  the  hall 
where  they  could  see  the  platform. 

The  mayor  was  there,  and  he  made  a  speeech. 
"  Fellow  citizens,"  he-  cried  in  a  big  voice;  "  I  am 
in  favour  of  any  honourable  compromise."  The  Cap- 
tain passed  a  hand  across  his  mouth.  Some  one 
hissed.  "  I  am  in  favour  of  sustaining  the  President 
so  long  as  he  works  for  peace."  A  dozen  hisses, 
and  the  mayor  wiped  his  forehead.  "  That  is  to 
say,"  he  went  on,  "  I  am  for  one  flag  and  our  laws, 
—  right  or  wrong."  A  stamping  of  feet  broke  out. 
"  Yet  I  am  opposed  to  making  war  on  any  State 
if  a  compromise  can  be  effected." 

Now  the  hisses  and  the  cries  of  protest  broke  out 
all  over  the  hall.  The  Captain  said  to  Hadley, 
"  That  is  the  sort  of  thing  which  has  brought  us 
where  we  are." 

Boone's  face  was  white.  "  The  cur !  Why  don't 
somebody  shut  him  up?  " 

Somebody  did.  A  big,  raw-boned  man,  with  a 
jaw  that  stuck  out  aggressively,  reared  his  head 
above  the  crowd. 

"  Congressman  Washburn !  "  exclaimed  Boone, 
and  he  began  to  stamp.  "  He  will  talk  out,  at  any 
rate." 

Washburn  did  talk  out.     "  Any  one,"  he  cried, 

174 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  who  will  try  to  stir  party  prejudices  at  this  time 
is  a  traitor!  " 

The  last  word  was  plumped  out.  The  mayor 
leaned  forward  to  resent  it.  But  if  he  spoke,  no  one 
heard  him.  The  dust  rose  from  the  floor  in  a  cloud 
under  the  pounding  of  feet.  Hats  whirled  above 
the  excited  faces  turned  on  the  big  man  with  the 
heavy  jaw. 

Then  Washburn  raised  his  arm,  and  they  lis- 
tened. He  proposed  a  resolution.  His  voice  rang 
out  the  last  pledge,  "  We  solemnly  resolve,  that, 
having  lived  under  the  stars  and  stripes,  by  the 
blessing  of  God  we  will  die  under  them." 

A  chorus  of  cheers  smote  against  the  walls.  Men 
crowded  about  the  towering  figure.  Then  some  one 
called  a  name.  "  Rawlins !  John  Rawlins !  "  The 
crowd  took  up  the  cry. 

To  his  feet  leaped  another  man  and  worked  his 
way  toward  the  front.  Tall  and  slender,  his  swarthy 
face  pale  and  his  wide  mouth  working,  he  sprang 
on  the  platform.  He  flung  back  his  coal-black  hair, 
and  threw  out  an  eloquent  arm.  It  was  a  gesture 
of  anger  and  defiance.  The  hall  was  still. 

Boone  knew  of  him.  The  Captain  knew  him. 
"  The  lawyer  for  our  firm.  Used  to  work  in  the 
woods  himself,"  the  latter  said.  "  He  is  a  Democrat, 
but  the  right  kind." 

He  was  the  right  kind,  if  the  silence  of  the  packed 
room  meant  anything.  Eager  eyes  were  fastened 

175 


THE       CAPTAIN 

on  the  passionate  face  that  looked  down  from  the 
platform.  For  half  an  hour  they  checked  the  torrent 
of  his  speech  only  to  cheer  him,  and  spur  him  on. 
His  arm  swept  the  air  and  his  powerful  voice 
plead  with  them,  scorned  them,  arraigned  them, 
cursed  them  for  the  wrongs  to  which  they  had  sub- 
mitted and  the  blind  faith  with  which  they  had 
awaited  the  issue  of  a  political  compromise  that 
disgraced  them.  Then,  leaning  far  over  the  plat- 
form, came  the  bugle-call,  "  The  day  for  compromise 
has  passed.  One  course  is  left  us.  We  will  stand 
by  the  Hag  of  our  country  and  appeal  to  the  God  of 
battles! " 

The  hall  shook.  They  sprang  on  the  platform 
and  grasped  his  hand.  Some  one  tore  a  flag  from 
its  fastenings,  and  was  carried  on  another  man's 
shoulders,  waving  its  folds.  Far  up  the  street  they 
heard  the  roar  which  smothered  the  crashing  of 
the  band  on  the  steps. 

The  Captain  made  his  way  out.  "  There  will 
be  nothing  more  done  to-night,"  he  said.  "  But 
Rawlins  struck  the  right  note."  Then,  after  a  little 
while,  "  Hadley,  I  believe  I  will  go  into  the  service, 
if  they  want  me." 

"  Want  you !  "  cried  Boone.  "  You're  the  very 
man  they  need.  You  know  what  it  is.  They'll  give 
you  a  command  right  off." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that."    The  Captain's  cigar 

176 


THE       CAPTAIN 

moved  to  the  other  corner  of  his  mouth.  "  But  I'll 
offer  myself,  anyhow." 

On  Thursday  evening  there  was  another  meeting 
in  the  court-house.  This  time,  as  the  posters  plainly 
said,  it  was  to  raise  volunteers  for  the  field.  An 
old  militia  captain  was  in  the  chair.  The  Captain 
and  Boone  had  come  late,  and  sat  in  the  back  of 
the  hall.  All  at  once  Boone  laid  a  hand  on  the 
Captain's  sleeve.  "  Hear  that !  "  he  said.  "  It's 
you!  He's  calling  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Captain,  but  he  did  not  rise. 
Then  the  chairman  called  him  again,  and  Boone 
urged  him,  "  Go  on.  Get  up.  They  want  you.  You 
must." 

The  Captain  got  up.  Heads  were  craned.  He 
heard  them  asking  who  he  was.  He  walked  forward 
slowly.  His  slouch-hat  was  crushed  in  one  hand. 
His  long,  blue  overcoat,  faded  and  white  at  the 
seams,  flapped  open  about  his  knees.  At  the  plat- 
form he  paused,  his  head  stooped,  following  the 
bend  of  his  figure.  There  was  the  shadow  of  a 
smile  on  his  bearded  lips. 

"  Get  up,  Captain !  Up  on  the  platform !  "  they 
shouted.  Still  he  could  hear  them  asking  who  he 
was. 

With  one  hand  on  the  desk  above  him,  he  hesi- 
tated. But  suddenly  he  turned  and  mounted  the 
platform  and  faced  them.  The  smile  was  gone. 
"  Citizens,"  he  said,  in  a  clear  voice,  "  we  are  here 

177 


THE       CAPTAIN 

to  raise  volunteers  for  the  State  of  Illinois."  He 
stopped. 

"  What  for  ?  "  some  one  called. 

"  To  fight,"  came  back  the  answer,  sharply.  Then 
he  went  on.  He  told  them  what  a  company  was,  how 
many  men  were  in  it,  how  it  should  be  officered. 
"  And  the  first  thing  you  must  know,"  he  said,  "  is 
obedience.  Fighting  is  not  a  picnic.  It  means  hard 
beds,  rough  food,  and  little  of  it  sometimes.  It 
means  heavy  work  and  danger,  and  doing  what  you 
are  told  to  do,  whether  you  like  it  or  not,  without 
questions.  If  you  put  your  name  down,  that's  what 
you  must  do.  I  will  aid  you  all  I  can  in  forming  a 
company.  I  am  going  into  the  service  myself." 

He  halted,  his  head  still  inclined  as  if  listening. 
His  lips  were  closed  tightly.  Boone,  far  back,  felt 
his  cheeks  burn  at  the  weak  cheering  which  followed 
the  thumping  of  his  own  feet.  But  it  was  plain  talk. 
There  was  little  of  the  ring  to  it  which  had  made 
the  blood  dance  when  Rawlins  stormed  at  them.  He 
realised  this,  and  waited  with  grim  patience.  Raw- 
lins spoke  again.  The  fire  of  his  speech  ran  through 
the  crowd.  Thirty  names  were  on  the  list  when 
the  meeting  broke  up.  The  Captain,  parting  with 
Boone  at  the  foot  of  the  bluff,  looked  up  at  the 
little  house,  hidden  in  the  gloom. 

"  I  don't  believe  you'll  see  me  at  the  leather  store 
much  longer,"  he  said.  "  I'll  have  all  I  can  do 
among  those  fellows  who  signed  to-night." 

178 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Sixty  men  had  signed  the  rolls  when  another 
night  fell.  The  Captain,  running  his  finger  down 
the  list,  did  not  find  Boone's  name.  But  he  did 
not  mention  this  when  he  saw  him  the  next  day, 
and  as  he  pulled  down  his  hat-brim  and  walked 
away,  he  said  to  himself,  "  It  isn't  because  he's 
afraid.  It  isn't  because  he  doesn't  know  his  mind." 

How  could  he  know  the  truth.  Boone  lingered 
on  a  threshold.  The  drums  called  him  away.  A 
taunting  figure  refused  to  turn  the  head  which  might 
—  what  might  it  do  ?  Yet  Boone  knew  he  would 
despise  himself  if  he  yielded  to  its  temptation. 

On  Saturday  morning  a  slender,  straight  figure 
stood  in  the  doorway  of  the  leather  store.  A  soft 
hat  was  tilted  back  from  the  dark,  strong  face. 
"  Hello,  Rawlins !  "  called  the  Captain,  coming  for- 
ward, a  pen  in  his  hand. 

"  There  is  to  be  a  meeting  over  at  Hanover  to- 
night," was  the  answer.  "  We're  going  to  raise 
volunteers.  Come  along,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Not  if  I  am  going  to  be  asked  to  make  a  speech. 
You  cornered  me  the  other  night." 

Rawlins  laughed.  "  You  talked  plain,  hard  sense 
to  them.  What's  wrong  with  that  ?  " 

"  I  won't  do  any  speech-making,"  the  Captain  an- 
swered, bluntly.  "  But  I  will  come.  I'll  drive  you 
over.  There's  a  young  doctor  I  want  to  take  along." 

Rawlins  laughed  again.     "  If  you  don't  speak, 

179 


THE       CAPTAIN 

I'll  —  I'll  have  to  raise  hell  for  two.  I'll  meet  you 
to-night." 

Boone  was  in  the  carriage  when  they  pulled 
up  at  the  frame  schoolhouse  that  night.  He  had 
climbed  into  the  wagon  without  a  word.  There 
was  a  crowd  in  the  room.  The  benches  were  jammed 
into  a  corner.  Rawlins  brought  these  benches  down 
crashing  with  a  speech  that  drove  the  men  into  a 
frenzy.  Then,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  he  called 
on  the  Captain. 

The  Captain  was  near  the  front.  He  had  seen 
what  was  coming.  He  got  up,  and  said  he  wouldn't 
make  a  speech.  "  But  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  help 
you  put  down  this  rebellion,"  he  told  them.  "  If 
you'll  come  to  Galena  where  we're  raising  a  com- 
pany, I'll  show  you  all  I  know  about  drill.  That's 
in  my  line." 

A  good  many  straight-backed,  broad-shouldered 
farmers  stepped  up  to  the  desk  and  put  their  names 
down.  Rawlins  grasped  the  hand  of  each  man 
who  signed,  and  wished  him  luck.  Boone  spoke 
only  when  he  was  asked  a  question.  He  sat  with 
jaw  clenched  and  gloomy  face.  They  were  half- 
way home  when  he  said  to  the  Captain,  who  was 
beside  him,  "  The  President  will  get  those  seventy- 
five  thousand  troops  he  has  called  for." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Captain.    "  I  reckon  he  will." 

"  And  that  will  stop  all  this  trouble?  They  won't 
need  any  more  men  ?  " 

1 80 


THE       CAPTAIN 

The  Captain  did  not  answer. 

"Won't  it?"  asked  Boone. 

"  No.  I  don't  think  it  will.  This  is  a  bigger 
job  than  most  people  seem  to  believe." 

"  A  damn  sight  bigger !  "  joined  in  Rawlins,  from 
the  back  seat.  "  They'll  eat  up  seventy-five  thousand 
men,  if  it  gets  started." 

Boone  looked  away,  then  suddenly  faced  the 
Captain.  '  You're  going  into  it,"  he  said,  fiercely. 
"  You're  married.  What  about  your  wife  and  chil- 
dren?" 

"  I'll  do  all  I  can  for  them.  But  I've  got  to  go. 
I'm  needed.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  I  owed  that  much 
to  my  country." 

"  But  you  ?  "  Boone  said,  turning  on  Rawlins. 
"  Are  you  going?  " 

"  No."  Rawlins's  voice  had  softened.  "  I  can't 
go.  My  wife  won't  be  here  long.  I've  got  to 
stay  while  she's  alive.  After  that  —  "  He  gripped 
Boone's  shoulder.  Then  he  loosed  his  hold.  "  I 
can't  go  now." 

Boone  knew  that  his  heart  had  leaped  at  the  first 
"  No."  But  the  contempt  that  he  felt  for  himself 
a  moment  later!  He  clung  desperately  to  a  hope. 
He  might  not  be  needed ;  or  —  she  might  say  go. 

The  Galena  volunteers  were  organised.  They 
called  themselves  the  Joe  Daviess  Guards.  Boone, 
one  day  in  the  following  week,  walked  into  the 
place  where  they  were  drilling. 

181 


THE       CAPTAIN 

The  Captain,  his  hat  pulled  down,  was  amongst 
them  straightening  out  their  lines.  His  face  was 
pouring  sweat,  his  brow  furrowed.  But  there  was 
a  flash  in  the  gray  eyes  that  seemed  to  be  every- 
where, and  his  voice  clicked  like  a  sabre  slapped  into 
its  scabbard.  The  men  lost  no  time  in  doing  what 
he  said.  Presently  he  came  over.  "  What  do  you 
think  of  the  uniform?"  he  asked.  His  mouth  re- 
laxed. "  Made  up  in  three  days,  so  far  as  it 
goes.  I  picked  out  the  stuff  and  helped  design  it. 
It  will  do,  I  guess.  Anyhow,  it  isn't  uniforms.  It's 
what's  in  them." 

"  But  they  elected  you  captain  of  the  company, 
I  heard,"  said  Boone. 

"  Yes.  But  I  think  I  can  do  better  in  another 
place.  I  was  nine  years  in  the  army." 

"  You  ought  to  have  a  regiment." 

"  I  could  command  a  regiment,"  the  Captain  said. 
"  I  believe  I'll  go  to  Springfield,  if  I  don't  soon  get 
the  chance  here." 

It  was  on  Thursday  of  the  same  week  that  Boone, 
returning  from  a  visit,  stopped  at  the  end  of  the 
bridge  across  the  river.  Up  the  main  street  came 
a  crowd  of  boys;  then  horses  —  on  one  of  them 
the  mayor,  in  all  the  dignity  of  a  black  suit  and 
high  hat.  Behind  him  men,  mounted  and  on  foot, 
carrying  swords  or  canes,  broad  belts  and  tinsel  braid 
across  their  breasts,  the  Masonic  insignia  upon  their 
coats.  Following  these,  a  fire  company  in  burnished 

182 


helmets.  Then  a  band  playing  its  loudest  to  lead 
the  swaying  flag  at  the  head  of  the  Joe  Daviess 
Guards,  who,  in  all  the  gaudy  stiffness  of  ill-fit- 
ting uniforms,  watched  their  feet,  proudly  conscious 
of  their  bravery  and  imposing  front. 

The  column  passed.  Close  behind  the  tailing  of 
boys  and  men  in  the  wake  of  the  procession  walked 
a  stocky  man  in  blue  overcoat  and  slouch-hat.  His 
eyes  were  on  the  hurrying  backs  ahead.  He  carried 
an  old  leather  bag. 

Boone  stepped  into  the  street.  "  Hello,  Captain !  " 
he  said.  "  Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  Springfield."  The  Captain  halted.  "  The 
Legislature  meets  next  week.  I'm  going  to  see  if 
they  want  me.  Washburn  says  they  will." 

"  You'll  get  your  regiment,  of  course.  They 
need  you." 

"  They'll  need  a  good  many  before  long,"  the 
Captain  said. 

Boone's  mouth  worked,  then  set  closely.  He 
wrung  the  Captain's  hand,  turned  on  his  heel  and 
walked  across  the  bridge. 

One  day  in  the  early  part  of  May  he  saw  Wash- 
burn  coming  out  of  the  railroad  depot.  He  knew 
that  he  had  been  at  Springfield.  He  touched  him 
on  the  shoulder  and  asked  him  how  the  Captain 
was.  To  the  leather  store  had  come  reports  of 
many  discouragements. 

"  He's  got  a  start  now,"  the  Congressman  said. 

183 


"  But  it  was  tough  pulling  for  awhile.  Everybody 
had  political  claims  stronger  than  his.  He  wanted 
to  come  home  a  week  ago.  Said  he  hadn't  come 
hunting  for  an  office.  We  kept  him  at  Springfield 
by  main  force.  Then  Governor  Yates  gave  him 
a  place  as  clerk." 

"  Clerk! "  repeated  Boone.  "  I  heard  he  was  sort 
of  military  adviser." 

"  Yes,  a  sort  of  military  adviser.  Ruling  blank 
paper  and  putting  down  yards  of  cloth  and  dozens 
of  buttons  and  pairs  of  shoes.  A  sort  of  military 
adviser.  But  he  ruled  paper  first-rate,  and  kept  his 
mouth  shut  except  when  something  was  asked  him." 

Boone's  face  was  hot.  "  He  ought  to  come  back. 
It's  a  damned  shame." 

"  It  was,"  Washburn  answered.  "  But  he  stuck 
it  out.  He's  gone  up  a  step,  now.  They  put  him 
in  command  temporarily  at  Camp  Yates.  He's 
mustering  in  troops." 

"What  rank  has  he?" 

"  No  rank  —  yet.  He  hasn't  any  uniform,  either, 
but  the  one  he  wore  here.  Don't  worry  about  him. 
He'll  come  out  where  he  belongs." 

But  in  those  days,  when  captains  and  colonels 
sprang  from  the  ground  in  hundreds  over  night, 
the  hours  seemed  to  mark  steadily  decaying  for- 
tunes for  the  Captain.  Boone  heard  of  his  ex- 
perience at  Mattoon  with  a  regiment  commanded 
by  a  swash-buckler  who  wore  an  arsenal  at  his 

184 


THE       CAPTAIN 

belt  and  knew  nothing  of  his  duties.  He  heard 
of  his  return  to  Springfield  and  of  the  stories  told 
about  him.  "  A  failure,"  he  was  called.  "  A  broken- 
down  soldier,  out  for  a  job  which  he  can't  handle 
and  won't  be  given." 

So  it  looked.  The  President  called  for  three 
hundred  thousand  men  to  serve  for  three  years  or 
the  war.  Mustering  in  volunteers  was  thought  to 
measure  the  Captain's  military  capacity.  While  wait- 
ing the  arrival  of  one  of  these  regiments,  eighteen 
miles  from  St.  Louis,  he  rode  into  the  city. 

It  was  the  loth  of  May.  The  air  was  charged 
with  excitement.  Many  of  the  stores  had  closed 
their  doors.  The  streets  swarmed  with  curious 
and  angry  crowds.  From  the  windows  scowling 
and  anxious  faces  looked  down. 

That  morning  a  man,  who  had  foreseen  a  great 
deal  which  was  to  happen  and  provided  against  it, 
was  busy  at  the  United  States  arsenal  south  of  the 
city.  The  Captain  rode  down  there  on  a  car,  and 
shook  hands  with  this  quiet  man,  and  also  with  a 
wiry,  nervous  man  with  streaming  red  hair,  and 
eyes  that  roved  everywhere  at  once.  The  Captain 
introduced  himself  to  both.  "  You  are  acting  at 
the  right  time,"  he  said.  "  The  arsenal  and  the 
city,  too,  would  be  lost  to  us  if  the  sort  of  thing 
that's  going  on  out  at  Camp  Jackson  was  allowed 
much  longer." 

"  It  sha'n't  go  on,"  returned  the  red-haired  man. 

185 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  We'll  have  them  all  in  here  by  night."  Then  he 
dashed  off  to  give  quick  orders  to  one  of  the  lines 
of  men.  The  Captain  stayed  until  two  of  these 
lines  of  men,  muskets  in  their  hands,  had  started 
westward. 

In  the  afternoon  in  St.  Louis  he  learned  that  the 
red-haired  man  had  kept  his  word.  The  State  militia 
for  a  week  had  played  at  soldier  in  a  pleasant  spot 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and  paraded  in  all  the 
finery  of  new  uniforms  before  their  mothers,  sis- 
ters, wives,  and  sweethearts.  Now  they  were  pris- 
oners on  their  way  to  the  arsenal,  walking  sullenly 
between  the  two  lines  of  muskets.  The  Captain 
decided  to  go  back  to  the  arsenal  and  see  them 
brought  in.  While  he  waited  on  a  corner  for  a 
car,  something  happened. 

Over  a  building  on  the  opposite  corner,  a  strange 
flag  for  weeks  had  flaunted  its  folds  unmolested. 
Now  along  the  street  came  a  body  of  men  and  pulled 
it  down.  There  were  groans  and  hisses  from  the 
pavement,  but  no  one  tried  to  hoist  the  flag  again 
when  the  despoilers  had  gone  on. 

But  from  among  the  crowd  which  lingered,  an 
elegantly  dressed  young  man  with  passionate  face 
mounted  the  door-step  and  made  a  speech.  It  was 
a  secession  speech,  and  more  than  that.  There  were 
words  in  it  which  made  more  than  one  of  his  lis- 
teners look  over  his  shoulder.  It  had  been  a  bad 
day  for  the  enemies  of  the  Union  in  St.  Louis.  The 

1 86 


THE       CAPTAIN 

gentleman  on  the  steps,  however,  was  not  deterred. 
From  complaint  he  passed  to  attack.  "  Things  have 
come  to  a  pretty  pass,  when  a  free  people  cannot 
choose  their  own  flag."  He  waved  his  arms. 
11  Where  I  came  from,  if  a  man  dared  to  say  a 
word  in  favour  of  the  Union,  we  hung  him  to  a 
limb  of  the  nearest  tree !  " 

Some  one  hissed.  It  was  powder  to  the  speaker's 
fire.  His  hand  dove  into  the  tail  of  his  coat,  and 
from  it  he  pulled  a  strip  of  bunting.  He  flung  it 
on  the  steps.  It  was  red  and  white  and  blue,  and 
there  were  stars  in  one  corner  of  it.  "  There !  "  he 
cried.  "  There  is  the  rag  we  know  the  mudsills 
by  in  the  South.  I  tore  it  down!  And  this  is 
the  way  we  treat  it !  "  With  that  he  spat  upon  it. 

The  Captain  had  been  edging  his  way  forward.  It 
is  possible,  if  the  violent  gentleman  had  seen  the 
stern  face  beneath  the  battered  hat-brim,  he  would 
have  desisted.  But  no  chance  was  given  him.  There 
was  a  sudden  lurching  of  the  crowd.  Then  it  split, 
and  a  tall  young  man  sprang  on  the  door-step.  His 
arm  shot  out;  the  elegant  and  violent  gentleman 
pitched  to  the  pavement. 

The  man  on  the  step  picked  up  the  bunting  and 
shook  it  out.  There  were  cheers.  His  face  was 
pale,  though  his  eyes  a  moment  before  had  been 
flashing.  But  when  he  saw  them  all  looking  at 
him,  a  strange  expression  of  bewilderment  swept 
his  face.  He  turned,  jumped  to  the  pavement,  and 

187 


THE       CAPTAIN 

shouldered  his  way  through  the  crowd.  As  he 
crossed  the  street  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder. 
"  David,  I  guess  you've  about  made  up  your  mind," 
said  a  quiet  voice.  The  gray  eyes  under  the  slouch- 
hat  said  a  good  deal  more  than  that  which  David 
understood.  He  gripped  the  Captain's  hand. 

"  I'm  on  my  way  to  the  arsenal  to  see  them  bring 
in  those  fellows  from  Camp  Jackson,"  the  Captain 
explained.  "  Come  along." 

David  was  rolling  up  the  bunting  in  his  hand. 
He  thrust  it  into  his  pocket.  "  No,"  he  said.  "  I 
can't  do  that.  I  have  something  to  do  which  I've 
been  putting  off  for  a  good  while.  I'm  going  to  do 
it  now." 


188 


XI 

CALLING 

OF  THE  DRUMS 

THE  next  morning  David  rode  over  to  Kitty 
Marshall's.  But  Kitty  was  not  at  home,  and 
he  went  slowly  away.  To  one  who  did  not 
know  him  it  might  have  seemed  that  he  turned  un- 
willingly toward  Doctor  Shirley's  place.  But  there 
was  a  line  about  his  lips  which  was  not  indecision. 
When  he  was  almost  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  long 
drive,  he  glanced  up  between  the  rows  of  elms  at 
the  white  house,  and  he  leaned  forward  and  patted 
his  horse's  neck.  "  Now,  old  boy,"  he  said,  half- 
aloud,  and  smiled  with  humourous  appreciation  of 
the  act. 

But  as  he  straightened,  he  started  and  pulled  up 
sharply.  A  horse  was  standing  by  the  steps;  two 
persons  had  come  out  on  the  porch.  One  of  them 
he  knew.  He  could  never  mistake  that  tall,  gracious 
figure  in  white  muslin  with  a  bright  ribbon  at  the 
waist  and  another  in  the  brown  hair.  He  was  sure 
she  was  smiling  as  she  held  back  her  head. 

But  the  other  one !    He  could  see  only  the  straight, 

189 


THE       CAPTAIN 

muscular  back,  the  loose-fitting  riding-clothes,  above 
the  coat  collar  a  shapely  head  of  close-curling  chest- 
nut hair.  A  riding-switch  tapped  the  boots,  then 
was  caught  beneath  the  arm  while  both  hands  took 
the  one  extended  in  good-bye. 

It  flashed  on  David  that  this  would  be  Philip  Ran- 
dolph, if  Philip  was  not  away  South,  riding  with  a 
command  of  Confederate  troops.  But  the  figure  on 
the  step  turned  to  swing  into  the  saddle,  and  he  knew 
that  Philip  was  not  in  the  South.  Who  will  blame 
him,  then,  that  he  waited  there,  screened  by  the  trees, 
and  saw  the  white  muslin  skirt  lifted  in  a  deep 
curtsy,  and  a  broad  hat  waved  in  reply  as  the  horse- 
man started  down  the  drive  ?  And  who  will  wonder 
that  the  whip  in  his  own  hand  came  down  sharply 
on  his  horse's  flank,  as  he  wheeled  about  and  gal- 
loped off? 

The  sun  shone  warmly  on  the  afternoon  of  that 
same  May  day,  and  under  a  big  maple  a  young 
woman  stopped  her  horse  as  she  reached  up  to  break 
a  switch  from  an  overhanging  limb.  While  she 
stripped  the  twigs  from  it,  she  talked  to  her  horse. 
"  Dick,"  she  said,  "  I  am  afraid  we  will  have  a 
good  many  rides  by  ourselves  after  this.  And  we 
don't  —  that  is,  you  won't  like  it,  will  you  ?  It's  not 
what  you've  been  used  to."  The  brown  horse  turned 
its  head  and  strove  to  reach  her  with  its  muzzle. 
She  laid  a  hand  on  its  neck  and  stroked  it.  "  Never 
mind,"  she  whispered.  "  We  won't  let  that  spoil 

IQO 


THE       CAPTAIN 

our  good  times.  No,  we  won't.  If  we  don't  have  the 
company  we've  had  before,  we'll  show  them  that  we 
are  quite  satisfied  without  it,  won't  we?  And  Dick, 
we  can  have  other  company  —  if  we  want  it.  Some 
people  don't  mind  coming  a  good  deal  further  than 
from  St.  Louis  to  be  with  us." 

The  brown  horse  whinnied.  It  was  certainly  a 
whinny  of  approval,  and  the  gloved  hand  stroked 
the  neck  again.  "  That's  right.  That's  just  the 
way  we  feel  about  it,"  she  answered.  Her  head  was 
high.  It  certainly  would  have  been  a  bold  person 
who  denied  her  statement. 

But  while  she  gathered  the  reins,  a  rider  came 
over  the  ridge  ahead.  He  was  galloping,  and  it  was 
plain  he  was  giving  little  attention  to  the  road.  If 
not,  then  why  did  he  straighten  himself  so  suddenly 
when  a  voice  called  to  him  ?  And  why  did  he  start 
at  the  sight  of  the  trim  figure  in  the  saddle  under 
the  maple?  There  was  nothing  dangerous  in  the 
face  into  which  he  looked.  Perhaps  he  anticipated 
the  rebuke,  "  David,  do  you  know  you  nearly  rode 
over  me?  " 

He  had  pulled  in  his  horse.  "  I  did  not  see  you," 
he  answered,  gravely.  "  I  am  sorry.  I  was  in  a 
great  hurry." 

"  So  I  perceive.  You  looked  terribly  disappointed 
when  I  called  to  you.  But  I  couldn't  have  Dick 
hurt.  Good-bye."  She  lifted  her  reins. 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  Wait  —  that  is,  where  are  you 
going?" 

"  Home.    I've  been  out  all  afternoon." 

Suddenly  he  pulled  his  horse's  head  about.  "  I 
will  ride  with  you,"  he  said.  He  said  it  as  if  it 
was  settled.  Perhaps  the  decision  awed  Dick.  At 
least,  the  brown  horse  turned  obediently  and  fol- 
lowed. But  at  first  neither  rider  spoke.  And 
when  this  had  grown  almost  unendurable,  Lee,  re- 
membering something,  gave  a  little  gasp  of  relief. 
From  her  breast  she  drew  an  envelope  and  held  it 
out.  Her  eyes  were  dancing.  "  Here,"  she  said. 
"  This  is  for  you.  It  came  in  a  letter  to  me.  You 
are  not  to  read  it  until  you  are  alone.  I  was  told 
it  wouldn't  be  safe  for  any  one  to  be  by.  But  you 
must  tell  me  all  about  it.  It  came  this  morning." 

David  took  the  envelope  and  stared  at  the  hand- 
writing. Abruptly  he  slipped  it  into  his  pocket,  and 
looked  away. 

She  laughed.  "  Now  that's  not  fair.  And  it  is 
suspicious,  besides."  His  head  was  still  turned. 
"  David,"  she  repeated.  A  frown  took  the  place  of 
the  smile.  "  David,  I  will  have  to  look  into  this. 
I'm  afraid  Beatrix  must  get  another  messenger." 

His  head  came  about  with  a  jerk.  "  Yes,"  he 
said,  "  she  should  get  another  messenger.  She  can't 
get  it  quickly  enough." 

She  understood  the  look  on  his  face  no  better  than 

192 


THE       CAPTAIN 

she  did  his  words.  "  Why !  What  is  it?  You  don't 
—  do  you  mean  me  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not.  You  know  that  I  mean  Mr. 
Randolph.  He  brought  this  letter." 

She  stared  at  him,  and  when  she  spoke  her  voice 
was  quick  and  scornful.  "  I  see,"  she  said.  (After- 
ward it  came  to  her  that  she  had  seen  very  little 
at  the  time.)  "  I  see  now.  I  hope  you  are  satis- 
fied. Eavesdroppers  and  spies !  " 

David's  voice  trembled,  but  his  jaw  was  stubborn 
and  his  eyes  were  angry.  "  You  are  mistaken,"  he 
said.  "  I  saw  him  by  accident.  I  was  riding  by." 

"  At  just  the  right  moment.  That  was  —  lucky. 
But  he  is  safe  now.  All  the  Black  Republicans 
about  here  can't  stop  him.  He's  gone  to  the  South." 

Where  was  David's  reason  fled  ?  A  dozen  words 
would  have  set  him  right  before  her;  a  dozen 
words  would  have  shown  her  how  ridiculous  was  the 
secrecy  which  the  imagination  of  her  visitor  had 
imposed  upon  himself  and  her.  But  such  words 
were  furthest  from  David's  thoughts.  Instead  he 
said,  slowly,  "  Yes,  I  can  well  believe  that.  He  has 
gone  to  the  South  to  join  the  rest  of  the  rebels.  It 
is  where  he  belongs." 

Her  hands  tightened  on  the  reins.  "  You  forget 
one  thing,"  she  said.  "  Whatever  Philip  is  doing, 
he  is  not  sitting  still  and  talking  while  others  fight." 

How  coolly  she  could  speak  when  she  was  most 
angry!  Every  word  stung,  as  it  was  meant  to  do. 

193 


THE       CAPTAIN 

But  it  did  more  than  this.  It  extinguished  the 
lingering  spark  of  regret  for  what  he  had  said. 
He  shut  his  lips  tightly. 

They  reached  the  big  gate  at  the  elm-shaded  drive. 
He  pulled  his  horse  in.  She  passed  by  him.  Then 
he  said,  "  I  will  thank  you  to  say  good-bye  to  the 
Doctor  for  me.  I  am  going  to  St.  Louis  this  after- 
noon. I  enlisted  yesterday  —  for  the  Union." 

One  day  at  the  end  of  that  May,  Boone,  crossing 
the  bridge  in  Galena  over  which  he  had  seen  the 
Joe  Daviess  Guards  march  a  month  before,  met  the 
Captain  trudging  back  toward  the  house  on  the 
bluffs.  "  Why,  how  is  it  you're  back  ?  "  he  cried. 
He  was  sorry  for  the  question  the  moment  it  was 
out. 

The  Captain  carried  the  same  old  leather  bag. 
Its  sides  were  collapsed.  His  smile  was  not  apolo- 
getic, but  it  was  a  little  weary.  "  I  got  tired  wait- 
ing," he  said.  "  I  wrote  to  Washington,  offering 
my  services,  but  they  haven't  answered  yet,  so  I 
came  back." 

Boone  swore  under  his  breath  as  the  shabby  blue 
overcoat  passed  out  of  sight. 

That  night  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bed,  which 
a  curtain  hid  from  the  rest  of  the  room  which  he 
called  office.  A  letter  lay  on  his  knees.  It  was  from 
David  a  week  old,  dated  at  the  camp  at  Carondelet. 
His  regiment  lay  south  of  the  city,  spread  out  to 

194 


THE       CAPTAIN 

guard  its  approaches.  David  was  immensely  happy 
and  busy.  Of  his  decision  to  enlist,  he  wrote  little. 
He  had  seen  his  way  clear,  and  so  he  had  gone  ahead. 
When  was  Boone  going  to  enlist?  Or  had  he?  No 
letter  had  come  from  him  for  several  weeks.  Was 
anything  wrong?  If  he  hesitated,  here  was  some- 
thing to  make  him  decide.  "  It  came  too  late  to 
affect  me,"  the  letter  added.  "  My  name  was  already 
down.  But  at  first  it  made  me  mad.  Then  I  laughed 
at  it.  There  is  some  fact  in  it,  of  course,  but  that 
fact  we'll  soon  make  fiction.  You  must  help  to  do 
it.  Of  course  you  know  who  sent  it.  If  you  don't, 
remember  who  promised  us  a  warm  welcome  if 
we  came  marching  into  Mississippi." 

The  enclosure  was  a  dated  clipping  from  a 
Vicksburg  paper,  and  referred  with  sarcastic  em- 
phasis to  a  report  made  by  the  Captain  upon  the 
arms  in  the  possession  of  the  State  of  Illinois.  Nine 
hundred  muskets,  sixty  of  these  fit  for  use.  "  It  is 
with  such  weapons,"  the  clipping  read,  "  that  the 
Yankees  intend  to  fight  the  South.  However,  the 
muskets  probably  will  go  round." 

Boone  repeated  to  himself.  "  Yes,  they  would 
'  go  round/  "  if  there  were  many  others  like  himself. 
And  the  one  who  had  forwarded  this  rebuke  was 
the  one  who  held  him  back  —  held  him  back  because 
it  was  her  South  —  held  him  to  his  shame. 

Hark!  There  were  the  drums  again!  Calling! 
Calling!  His  feet  touched  the  floor.  He  crushed 

195 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  clipping  in  his  hands;  then  suddenly  rose  and 
walked  over  to  the  table  in  the  corner.  Next  he 
was  arranging  papers,  writing  a  note.  Quickly, 
but  methodically,  as  if  carrying  out  an  old  plan  with 
impatience. 

It  was  daylight  when  he  picked  up  his  hat  and  bag 
and  locked  the  door  behind  him.  He  laid  the  key 
with  an  envelope  addressed  to  his  landlady  on  the 
small  table.  A  moment  more  and  the  cool,  damp 
air  of  the  spring  morning  bathed  his  face.  It  was 
gray  over  the  river  toward  the  south.  He  could  not 
pierce  the  mist  there.  But  from  the  east,  as  he 
strode  toward  the  railroad  station,  a  shaft  of  sun- 
light fell  upon  his  path,  and  he  saw  clearly  where 
he  walked. 

Then  came  the  train.  Through  the  long  hours 
of  the  day  he  stubbornly  fought  off  reflection.  At 
last  he  was  in  Springfield.  Now  he  could  hear 
nothing  but  the  drums.  How  triumphantly  they 
ruffled!  It  was  the  long  roll. 

To  Springfield  early  in  June  came  stories  of  dis- 
orderly doings  at  Mattoon,  of  drunken  soldiers,  de- 
sertions, the  looting  of  smoke-houses,  riots.  A  regi- 
ment was  camped  there,  the  last  which  the  Captain 
mustered  into  service,  —  the  Twenty-first  Illinois 
Infantry.  Then  one  day  arrived  an  imperative  order 
from  the  governor,  and  the  regiment  was  marched 
to  Springfield,  trailing  its  ill-fame  along  the  roads, 

196 


THE       CAPTAIN 

warning  of  its  coming  speeding  ahead  of  it.  With 
the  regiment  marched  into  Camp  Yates  Lieutenant 
Boone  Hadley,  indignant,  chagrined,  powerless.  A 
swaggering  colonel  was  at  its  head.  Boone  watched 
him  strutting  about,  pistols  in  his  belt,  then  with 
a  grunt  of  disgust  turned  away.  He  did  his  best, 
and  hoped  for  a  change  of  command. 

The  change  came  soon.  The  day  after  they 
reached  Camp  Yates  the  story  went  the  rounds  that 
there  was  to  be  a  new  colonel.  The  governor  had 
telegraphed  to  Cincinnati  for  him.  He  was  on  his 
way.  Who  was  he?  They  knew  little  more  than 
his  name.  Two  months  ago  he  had  been  an  en- 
rolment clerk,  later  a  mustering  officer.  Boone  knew 
him  as  the  Captain. 

This  was  on  Sunday.  It  was  expected  he  would 
take  charge  the  middle  of  the  week.  On  Monday  he 
arrived.  Boone,  in  front  of  his  men,  drawn  up  on 
the  State  Fair  grounds,  saw  him  walking  across  the 
dusty  level.  With  him  were  two  members  of  Con- 
gress, —  McClellan  and  Logan.  They  were  showy 
figures.  Between  them  the  plain  man  of  middle 
height,  in  shabby  clothes,  would  never  have  been 
noticed.  Jokes  were  cracked  in  the  uneven  lines 
of  men  as  they  saw  him  approach.  "  What  sort  of  a 
colonel  do  you  call  that  ?  A  saw-buck !  Hay  in  his 
hair !  Lay-down-in-the-mud !  We'll  put  him  through 
the  ropes !  "  Boone's  face  crimsoned.  These  were 
good,  sound  men  behind  him,  but  they  needed  a 

I97 


THE       CAPTAIN 

strong  hand  as  badly  as  many  of  them  needed 
uniforms. 

McClellan,  Logan,  and  the  Captain  mounted  a 
platform  facing  the  regiment.  McClellan  and  Logan 
made  speeches.  There  were  big  words  in  McClel- 
lan's  speech.  But  the  men  seemed  impressed.  Logan 
made  a  ringing  appeal  to  loyalty,  and  got  a  salvo 
of  cheers.  Without  warning  he  turned  to  the  back 
of  the  stage,  and  hooked  an  arm  in  that  of  the 
Captain  and  led  him  forward. 

The  laughter  and  jokes  began  again.  The  man 
who  faced  them  was  very  unlike  a  soldier.  His  coat 
was  rusty,  and  buttons  were  missing  from  its  front. 
His  hat  was  stained  and  crumpled.  There  was 
neither  fire  nor  sternness  in  his  face,  as  he  ran  his 
eyes  over  the  ranks  before  him,  his  hands  on  the 
railing. 

"  Your  new  commander ! "  cried  Logan,  and 
stepped  back. 

The  plain  man  made  no  response.  His  eyes  still 
soberly  ranged  the  faces  turned  on  him.  Then  he 
spoke. 

"  Men,  go  to  your  quarters! " 

The  words  had  the  snap  of  a  gun-lock.  There  was 
silence.  Smiles  vanished,  heads  came  erect,  figures 
stiffened.  Here  was  the  master. 


198 


XII 

FLOUTING 
A  UNIFORM 

THERE  was  a  camp  at  Jefferson  Barracks.  It 
was  the  one  of  the  chain  which  reached  west- 
ward and  north,  and  bade  a  governor  who, 
in  one  breath,  had  announced  his  loyalty  to  the 
Union,  and  in  the  next  called  for  fifty  thousand 
militia  to  defend  Missouri  from  the  Federal  forces, 
keep  his  hands  off  the  city.  Within  the  half-circle 
of  these  camps  the  red-haired,  rushing  man  who  had 
seized  the  militia  at  Camp  Jackson,  and  told  the 
governor  exactly  what  he  was,  commanded,  now  as 
a  brigadier.  One  of  his  men  at  the  Jefferson  Bar- 
racks camp  was  a  raw  volunteer  of  six  feet,  with  a 
breadth  of  shoulder,  a  boldness  in  the  clean-shaven 
chin  and  a  clear  eye  which  made  him  respected. 
This  volunteer  had  a  way  of  doing  what  he  was  told 
without  asking  questions.  But  at  every  chance  he 
would  pull  out  a  book  with  something  about  "  Tac- 
tics "  on  its  cover  and  read  in  it  as  long  as  his  duties 
and  an  inflexible  rule  about  lights  allowed.  There 
were  a  hundred  men  about  David  as  big  as  he  was 

199 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  with  good  stuff  in  them.  But  unconsciously 
almost  they  fell  into  the  habit  of  asking  him  to  settle 
knotty  points  about  drill,  dress,  and  other  things. 

Mr.  Mayhew  came  to  the  camp  twice.  He  said 
things  which  David  could  not  understand.  He  had 
voted  for  Mr.  Breckenridge.  But  that  was  past,  he 
added.  Mr.  Lincoln  was  President  now;  it  was  a 
question  of  saving  the  country.  Therefore  he  was 
for  the  Union.  Could  any  sensible  man  who  loved 
his  country  feel  otherwise?  He  was  of  the  opinion 
that  David  had  done  right  in  enlisting.  He  spoke 
confidently  of  the  result  of  the  war.  But  it  threat- 
ened great  losses  to  him  personally.  He  was  trying 
to  hold  his  cotton  business  together.  He  had  most 
of  his  money  embarked  in  it.  If  war  put  a  stop  to 
trading,  he  must  look  for  something  else.  There 
were  —  army  contracts. 

He  almost  persuaded  David  that  he  was  a  Union 
man  at  heart  as  well  as  in  words.  Before  he  left 
camp  the  second  time,  he  was  shaking  hands  with 
the  colonel  in  command.  It  seemed  he  had  a  letter 
to  him  from  some  one  influential  in  St.  Louis. 

Major  Wilkins  came  down  from  St.  Louis  where 
he  was  in  the  quartermaster's  department.  He 
hunted  up  David  at  once,  and  there  was  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye  when  he  remarked,  "  It  strikes  me  you 
fill  out  that  uniform  fairly  well  for  a  person  who 
wasn't  sure  about  State's  rights  a  few  months  ago." 

David  would  have  resented  this  from  many  peo- 

2OO 


THE       CAPTAIN 

pie.  To  the  Major  he  said  quietly  that  he  had  learned 
a  good  deal  in  that  time.  He  had  heard  from  Boone 
how  the  Captain  took  command  of  his  regiment. 
He  asked  where  the  Captain  was. 

"  Up  at  Camp  Yates,  teaching  them  who  is  colo- 
nel. I  was  there  the  day  after  he  took  charge. 
One  of  the  men  ran  up  behind  him  and  made  believe 
to  spar  at  him.  He  accidentally  hit  him.  Well !  " 
The  Major  whistled.  "  They  call  him  a  tyrant  al- 
ready. Wait  till  they've  been  in  the  field  with  him 
a  little  longer." 

David  often  looked  along  the  yellow  clay  road 
which  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  Gravois,  and 
it  was  hard  to  believe  that  the  place  which  he 
called  home  was  no  more  than  a  few  miles  away. 
Even  the  ground  around  the  Barracks  was  unfa- 
miliar. The  tents  dotted  a  gentle  slope;  occasion- 
ally the  smoke  of  a  steamer  drifted  their  way.  But 
it  did  not  look  as  it  had  on  those  days  when  he  rode 
by  it  and  some  one  rode  beside  him. 

One  afternoon  he  was  doing  sentry  duty,  and 
patrolled  a  line  on  the  clay  road  which  no  one  with- 
out credentials  was  to  pass.  Then  there  came  three 
persons  on  horseback,  and  the  two  who  rode  ahead 
showed  small  respect  for  the  blue  uniform  and  the 
musket.  They  were  talking  to  each  other  and  laugh- 
ing. Apparently  they  did  not  see  the  line  which 
he  guarded.  It  was  the  musket  which  checked  them. 
It  fell  lightly,  and  its  glittering  point  made  a  brown 

2O I 


THE       CAPTAIN 

horse  point  its  ears.  The  rider  glanced  inquiringly 
at  the  uniform.  "  Mr.  Soldier,"  she  said,  "  please 
move  that  bayonet.  We  are  not  going  to  break  any 
rules  of  your  camp." 

The  muscles  under  the  peaked  hat  were  properly 
rigid.  "  You  cannot  go  further  on  this  road  with- 
out a  pass." 

Kitty  pouted.  "  I  knew  one  of  these  new  soldiers 
would  stop  us,"  she  remarked. 

But  her  companion  was  interrogating.  "  Who 
says  we  cannot  go  on  ?  " 

"  I  do.    I  am  put  here  for  that  purpose." 

"  And  who  are  you  ?  "  inquired  Kitty,  with  wither- 
ing contempt.  "  Come  on,  Lee." 

But  the  bayonet  was  unwavering.  The  brown 
horse  examined  it  with  inquisitive  muzzle. 

Kitty  giggled.  "  Look  out,  Mr.  Soldier !  He'll 
eat  the  point  off." 

A  smothered  chuckle  came  from  where  'Lias  sat 
his  horse  a  few  yards  away.  A  month's  tan  did 
not  conceal  David's  flush.  But  he  did  not  budge. 

Lee  looked  at  the  musket.  "  Don't  be  afraid," 
she  said,  encouragingly.  "  My  horse  sha'n't  hurt 
your  gun.  But  tell  me,  do  you  have  to  stand  that 
way?" 

David's  brows  began  to  contract. 

"  Gracious !  "  ejaculated  Kitty.  "  He's  going  to 
have  a  fit.  Call  the  guard !  " 

Then  David  spoke.    "  It  is  against  orders  to  talk 

2O2 


THE       CAPTAIN 

to  visitors.  If  you  haven't  a  pass,  you  must  move 
back  from  the  line." 

Kitty  backed  her  horse  precipitately.  "  Be  care- 
ful !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  believe  I  was  a  foot  across 
it." 

Lee  sat  where  she  was  and  looked  very  severe. 
"  Sentry,"  she  said,  "  do  your  duty.  Demand  our 
pass." 

David  held  out  his  hand.  It  was  a  pass  properly 
made  out  and  signed.  He  returned  it,  shouldered 
his  musket,  and  stepped  back. 

The  two  riders  moved  forward  a  few  feet.  There 
they  faced  about.  "  And  now,  David,"  said  Lee, 
"  you  can  forget  you  are  a  soldier  and  talk  to  us. 
We've  come  to  see  you."  The  old  friendliness  was 
in  her  face.  He  yielded  to  the  temptation  of  another 
look.  She  was  leaning  back  in  the  saddle,  her  hands 
on  the  pommel,  and  with  head  a  little  to  one  side 
she  regarded  him  with  a  smile  which  wrecked  mili- 
tary gravity. 

"  You  see  I  cannot  talk  to  you  here,"  he  said. 
"  It  is  against  regulations.  And  I  must  move  on. 
'Lias  will  explain  better  than  I  could." 

"  But  —  you  don't  have  to  walk  up  and  down 
and  look  as  if  you  had  swallowed  a  ramrod  and  it 
hurt  you,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  does,"  asserted  Kitty.  "  That's  what 
all  new  soldiers  have  to  do,  so  they  think.  When 
he  wants  to  eat,  he  calls  the  guard.  They  feed  him. 

203 


THE       CAPTAIN 

When  he  wants  to  sleep  —  he  remembers  the  ramrod 
and  doesn't  dare  to.  Poor  soldier !  " 

What  was  David  to  do  but  laugh?  But  he  re- 
sumed his  severity  instantly.  How  much  he  un- 
learned in  the  months  which  followed !  "  I  must 
go,"  he  said.  "  I  am  glad  I  saw  you.  Good-bye." 
He  faced  about,  and  started  over  his  beat. 

"  David,"  began  Lee,  then  changed  her  mind,  and 
rode  on.  Kitty's  voice  came  back,  raised  in  ad- 
miration, "  Oh,  isn't  he  beautiful !  See  how  straight 
he  walks!  And  his  gun!  Sticking  up  over  his 
shoulder !  How  fierce !  " 

David's  sigh  as  they  disappeared  was  a  tremen- 
dous relief.  No  one  had  been  by  to  see  or  hear. 
When  they  returned,  he  meant  to  be  at  the  other 
end  of  his  beat. 

But  he  did  not  have  the  opportunity.  The  guard 
relieved  him  in  half  an  hour,  and  the  guard  bore 
an  order.  He  was  to  report  at  headquarters  at 
once.  David  had  a  premonition  as  he  walked  to 
headquarters.  There  was  a  brush  and  a  basin  in 
his  tent  which  he  would  have  liked  to  visit  first. 

Headquarters  was  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
The  colonel  was  prisoner.  An  unnecessary  number 
of  young  officers  had  duties  to  perform  near  the 
place.  'Lias  stood  guard  outside.  On  the  only 
chairs  sat  two  very  contented  persons. 

It  appeared  the  colonel  had  known  Doctor  Shirley 
for  many  years.  He  was  anxious  to  show  the  camp. 

204 


THE       CAPTAIN 

But  he  could  not  go  himself  just  then.  "  So  he 
has  ordered  you  to  be  our  guide,"  explained  Lee. 
"  Do  you  think  your  dignity  will  allow  it?  "  She 
regarded  the  tall  young  man  with  a  look  of  properly 
impersonal  inquiry. 

"  I  can  try,"  he  said. 

The  colonel  laughed.  "  When  these  ladies  are 
ready  to  go,  see  that  they  are  escorted  out  of  camp. 
Well  out  of  the  camp." 

"  And  we  are  to  be  the  judges  of  the  distance," 
qualified  Kitty. 

They  inspected  the  camp.  Many  things  were 
to  be  explained.  He  told  what  he  knew  gravely. 
Kitty's  admiring  interest  was  disconcerting.  "  I'll 
inform  the  Captain,"  she  declared,  finally.  "  It's  a 
shame.  You  should  have  his  place.  You  know  it 
all  —  almost.  And  yet  so  young !  "  But  David  saw 
a  light  in  Lee's  eyes  which  recompensed  him. 

His  visitors  brought  him  news.  Oswald  had 
marched  with  General  Lyon  and  fought  at  Boone- 
ville  —  in  one  of  the  first  battles  in  the  State.  Kitty 
told  him  about  it.  It  appeared,  from  her  account, 
that  Oswald  had  done  most  of  the  fighting.  He  had 
been  wounded  slightly.  A  week  ago  he  had  re- 
sumed his  duties.  He  had  been  made  a  lieutenant. 
"  A  lieutenant"  she  repeated. 

"How  did  you  know  all  this?"  asked  David. 
Lee's  warning  glance  came  too  late.  "  So  soon, 
I  mean  — "  he  blundered.  ".I  didn't  think  you 

205 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  he  — "  Then  the  signal  reached  him,  and 
he  stopped.  But  Miss  Marshall  was  not  discon- 
certed. She  had  rallied  to  the  defence  of  colours 
many  times  before.  "  I  forgot  you  had  been  away 
so  long,"  she  said,  condescendingly.  "  Oswald's 
mother's  eyesight  has  failed.  It  was  the  least  I 
could  do,  so  I  go  to  see  her.  I  have  to  read  her 
letters  to  her,  of  course." 

"  Oh,"  answered  David.  "  I  see."  But  it  had 
been  his  impression  that  Mrs.  Roner  was  favoured 
with  reasonably  good  vision. 

Lee's  face  was  turned  aside.  Kitty  went  on,  com- 
passionately, "  And  there's  something  else  you 
haven't  heard  of.  The  Colonel  has  gone." 

"Gone?    Where?" 

"  To  the  South.  He  went  as  soon  as  he 
decided  that  Missouri  would  stay  in  the  Union. 
He's  in  Virginia  now.  And  he's  a  brigadier-gen- 
eral," proudly.  She  repeated  to  him  the  story  of 
the  Colonel's  parting  with  Miss  Sarah,  and,  in  a 
moment,  was  mimicking  those  doughty  opponents. 
Kitty,  how  many  times  during  those  four  gloomy 
years  did  your  dancing  eyes  and  relish  of  the  humour 
in  life  lift  you  from  the  shadow  of  grief,  and  bring 
a  smile  to  faces  which  thought  they  had  forgotten 
how  to  smile !  She  enacted  the  scene.  The  Colonel 
coming  into  the  room,  pulling  at  his  goatee,  his 
face  glowing,  as  he  announced  that  he  had  been 
made  "  a  colonel  in  the  army  of  the  Confederate 

2O6 


THE       CAPTAIN 

States  of  America! "  Miss  Sarah's  brows  raised 
inquiringly.  And  his  unwise  assertion,  "  Yes, 
madam,  a  colonel,  —  a  colonel  of  a  regiment  of  Vir- 
ginia gentlemen!"  Whereat  the  estimable  lady 
opened  her  lips  to  remark,  "  Of  course,  body-ser- 
vants are  provided  to  carry  the  muskets  of  the  gen- 
tlemen" 

David  obeyed  orders  when  the  time  came,  and 
escorted  his  visitors  out  of  camp.  Gravois  was 
almost  in  sight  when  he  turned  back.  Lee's  fingers 
closed  on  his  with  lingering  pressure.  Her  "  David, 
good-bye,"  was  faintly  spoken.  Afterward  he  told 
himself  that  it  was  so  she  asked  his  pardon  for  the 
injustice  she  had  once  done.  A  month  has  passed 
since  that  day,  and  it  had  become  no  less  strange  to 
be  without  her  friendship.  He  went  back  to  his 
post  persuaded  that  the  articles  of  war  should  be 
amended.  Women  should  have  a  place  in  camp. 

In  fact  there  was  little  of  the  glamour  of  military 
life  about  the  Barracks.  Men  in  blue  uniforms 
sweated  and  toiled  at  duties  which  were  probably 
furthest  from  the  minds  of  most  of  them  when  they 
enlisted.  Squads  tramped  the  pavements  of  St. 
Louis,  and  were  halted  in  front  of  doors  and  win- 
dows while  search  was  made  of  houses  whose  loyalty 
was  suspected.  Sturdy  fellows  with  heavy  hands 
rolled  in  on  the  trains  from  the  West  and  North,  and 
from  the  Lake  shores,  and  were  herded  again  on 
other  cars,  poking  heads  from  every  window  and 

207 


THE       CAPTAIN 

waving  good-bye,  flocking  out  at  every  stop  if 
chance  was  given  them,  joking  and  laughing  at 
war  until  at  last,  penned  in  the  camps  of  organisa- 
tion, they  fell  into  awkward  step  and  grumbled  at 
the  heat  and  regulations.  And  their  faces  grew 
solemn  and  sometimes  sullen  when  drill  sergeants 
swore  at  slow  movements  and  because  they  handled 
muskets  as  if  they  were  rakes  or  axes  or  crowbars. 
Then  as  the  steady  grind  of  the  machine  of  disci- 
pline wore  them  into  shape,  and  they  learned  to 
know  that  a  straight  line  meant  eyes  to  the  front 
and  shoulders  squared  and  even  step,  and  the  new 
rifles  flashed  more  nearly  together,  they  were  put 
on  trains  again,  and  pulled  away.  And  always 
toward  the  South. 

To  be  sure,  in  St.  Louis  itself  there  was  one 
man  who  wore  a  fine  uniform  and  had  servants  and 
a  body-guard  in  gorgeous  attire.  General  Fremont 
had  come  to  take  command  of  the  Western  Depart- 
ment. His  military  establishment  was  the  talk  of 
the  country  round.  But  across  the  river,  a  few 
miles  to  the  north,  was  another  man,  —  a  colonel 
of  volunteers,  who  dressed  as  plainly  as  any  of  his 
men,  plainer  than  many  of  them.  And  under  him, 
brawny  fellows  fast  learned  to  be  soldiers. 

A  letter  from  Boone.  In  it  news  of  the  Captain. 
"  We  are  being  licked  into  shape,"  Boone  wrote. 
"  We  have  got  only  as  far  as  company  drill,  but  we 
know  that.  There  is  no  fooling  in  this  regiment,  I 

208 


THE       CAPTAIN 

tell  you.  We're  in  your  State  now,  as  you  see  by 
the  date-line  of  my  letter.  Your  governor  asked 
for  troops,  it  seems.  The  Captain  told  ours  that 
if  he  would  order  us  to  go,  he  needn't  worry  about 
transportation.  It  was  the  truth.  The  transporta- 
tion came  out  of  our  legs.  Lord,  how  mine  ache! 
Across  country  to  Salt  River,  not  an  enemy  in  sight. 
The  Captain  has  a  new  uniform.  Somehow  it  doesn't 
look  right  on  him.  But  the  same  man  is  inside  of  it. 
And  nobody  in  the  regiment  has  a  chance  to  forget 
that.  There  is  talk  that  we  are  coming  down  your 
way.  Be  on  the  lookout  for  us.  We  may  come 
to  St.  Louis." 

This  letter  was  dated  from  the  little  town  of  Mex- 
ico, Missouri.  It  came  to  David  in  a  roundabout  way, 
and  it  was  at  the  end  of  the  first  week  in  August 
that  it  reached  his  hands.  On  the  next  afternoon 
he  heard  that  the  Captain  was  to  be  in  St.  Louis 
the  following  day.  For  a  very  good  reason  it  was 
entirely  within  David's  power  to  leave  the  camp  on 
that  morning  of  the  7th  of  August,  and  he  travelled 
straight  to  the  Planters'  Hotel. 

Was  the  Captain  there?  Yes,  he  had  just  come. 
David's  name  went  up-stairs,  David  followed  it  a 
few  minutes  later.  For  the  first  time  he  saw  the 
Captain  in  uniform.  He  was  at  a  table,  writing. 
Papers  were  piled  beside  him,  a  file  of  telegrams  lay 
beneath  a  weight.  He  dropped  his  pen,  and  rose. 
He  seemed  to  have  gained  inches  in  height.  His 

209 


THE       CAPTAIN 

eyes  were  alert  and  steady,  his  beard  was  trimmed. 
He  spoke  as  one  having  authority.  "  When  does 
your  enlistment  expire?  "  was  his  first  question. 

"  It  expired  yesterday.  I  intend  to  enlist  again 
—  to-morrow  —  for  three  years." 

"  Three  years  is  a  good  while,"  remarked  the 
Captain.  "  You  are  sure  you  want  to  do  it?  " 

"  Very  sure." 

"  Then,"  said  the  Captain,  "  I  want  you  to  change 
your  mind.  I  was  appointed  brigadier-general  to- 
day. I  need  somebody  like  you.  I  want  men  around 
me  whom  I  know.  I'd  like  to  have  you  on  my  staff. 
Will  you  accept  ?  " 

David's  eyes  shot  a  quick  look  of  thanks.  Then 
he  frowned.  He  explained  that  he  had  had  no 
experience  in  an  officer's  duties.  The  Captain  waived 
the  objection.  Neither  had  hundreds  of  others  who 
suddenly  found  themselves  in  command.  Officers 
were  needed.  Besides,  this  was  not  a  question  of  a 
command.  When  David  gave  his  answer,  it  was  a 
deliberate  assertion.  "  Yes,  I  will  accept.  I  believe 
I  can  be  of  more  use  with  you  than  where  I  have 
been.  But  I  have  no  commission." 

"  General  Fremont  will  attend  to  that.  Be  ready 
to  start  with  me  to-morrow."  He  held  out  his  hand. 
David  gripped  it.  By  the  time  he  had  picked  up 
his  hat  and  reached  the  door,  the  Captain  was  bend- 
ing over  the  table  again,  writing  rapidly. 

2IO 


XIII 

A    BAPTISM 

OF  that  first  month  of  David's  duties  at  Cape 
Girardeau,  where  the  Captain  took  him,  there 
is  little  that  concerns  this  story.  The  news 
of  the  Captain's  new  rank  had  gone  ahead  of  him. 
His  old  regiment  welcomed  him,  drawn  up  in  line, 
the  band  playing.  At  nightfall,  another  band  came 
to  serenade  him.  There  was  a  call  for  a  speech. 
The  Captain  withdrew.  "  It's  one  of  your  duties 
as  a  staff-officer  to  make  all  speeches,"  he  declared. 
But  David  shook  his  head.  Some  one  else  made 
the  speech.  An  annalist  of  the  Captain  has  it  that 
this  famous  address  closed  with  the  exhortation: 

"  Strike  for  your  altars  and  your  fires, 
Strike  for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires, 
God  and  your  native  land." 

But  it  is  fairly  certain  that  this  was  an  invention 
of  the  same  enterprising  journalist  who,  on  the 
boat  coming  down  to  Cape  Girardeau,  wrote  of  the 
Captain,  "  A  smile  is  almost  ^continually  playing 

211 


THE       CAPTAIN 

about  his  eyes."  The  Captain  did  not  smile  often, 
and  his  eyes  were  uncommonly  steady.  But  they 
missed  little  within  their  range.  Boone  told  David 
of  some  things  that  had  happened  when  the  Captain 
was  colonel.  "  They  thought  they  could  play  with 
him,"  he  said.  "  The  day  he  was  presented  to  the 
regiment,  one  man  stole  behind  him  and  tipped  off 
his  hat.  The  Captain  turned  on  him  like  a  flash, 
and  he  went  to  the  guard-house.  We  had  a  hundred 
men  in  there  within  a  few  days.  One  man  came  into 
camp  drunk,  and  said  he'd  kill  any  one  who  tried 
to  arrest  him.  The  Captain  heard  him,  grabbed 
him  by  the  collar,  ran  him  to  the  nearest  line,  and 
threw  him  out  on  his  face.  *  If  you  come  back,'  he 
said,  '  I'll  have  you  shot.'  Line-running,  drinking, 
and  looting  were  at  an  end  in  a  week.  *  Never  saw 
such  quick  work,'  an  old  sergeant  told  me  one  morn- 
ing. '  He's  a  little  man,  but  he's  colonel  of  this 
regiment,  sir ! ' 

It  was  the  same  way  with  the  Captain  as  brigadier. 
There  was  evidence  of  this  every  day.  It  was  a  bit- 
ter disappointment  to  them  all  when  General  Pren- 
tiss  came  down  to  Ironton,  their  new  headquarters, 
with  orders  placing  him  in  charge.  They  all  under- 
stood that  the  Captain,  too,  felt  the  slight.  But  he 
gave  no  sign.  He  had  mastered  himself.  The 
change  of  base  to  Cairo  brought  a  better  state  of 
affairs.  There  he  was  placed  in  command  of  a  wide 
strip  of  country  about  the  big  winding  river.  Toward 

212 


THE       CAPTAIN 

it  his  gaze  was  always  turning-.  A  fancy  took  hold 
of  David  that  the  Captain's  fortunes  were  embarked 
on  the  great  stream  whose  muddy  breast  rolled  ma- 
jestically to  the  south. 

But  August  went  by  and  September  came  in,  and 
they  remained  at  Cairo.  David  grew  restless. 
It  was  drill,  drill,  drill.  The  Captain  spent  much 
of  his  time  at  his  desk.  It  was  in  the  back  room 
of  a  house  which  looked  down  on  the  wharves  of 
the  squalid  little  town,  wharves  almost  deserted, 
except  for  the  steamers  which  carried  troops  and 
supplies.  He  was  always  pondering  over  the 
maps,  tracing  lines,  writing  letters  and  telegrams. 
All  of  which  seemed  to  many  to  savour  little  of  war. 
But  also  orders  came  from  that  little  room,  and 
men  did  things  when  these  orders  were  read.  It 
was  ever  so  with  the  Captain.  Though  he  did  not 
wear  a  uniform,  his  stocky  figure  was  the  signal 
for  instant  attention  and  a  bracing  up  all  around. 

Rawlins  came  to  camp,  as  swarthy  and  outspoken 
as  on  the  night  when  he  cursed  the  volunteers'  meet- 
ing in  the  Galena  court-house.  And  Rawlins's 
mouth  was  still  full  of  oaths.  But  he  buckled  to  his 
duties  with  amazing  energy.  David  liked  him  better 
with  every  hour  he  worked  beside  him. 

Then  one  day  something  happened.  On  the  night 
before,  the  Captain  looked  up  from  a  telegraph  pad 
and  said,  quietly,  "  I  telegraphed  Fremont  this  after- 
noon that  if  I  did  not  hear  from  him  to-night,  I 

213 


THE       CAPTAIN 

would  move  on  Paducah.  I  have  not  had  a  reply. 
I  will  take  the  town  at  once." 

In  the  morning  Paducah  was  taken.  Not  a  gun 
was  fired.  David  declared,  with  good-humoured 
disgust,  "  If  this  is  war,  we've  wasted  a  lot  of  time 
drilling." 

Boone  laughed.  "  Oh,  wait  awhile.  I  reckon,  my 
son,  you'll  have  your  fill  of  what  you  want.  I  be- 
lieve we  came  out  to  fight." 

Early  in  November  the  prophecy  was  fulfilled. 
There  were  three  thousand  men  in  the  Captain's 
command.  He  had  three  wooden  gunboats  and 
several  small  ironclads,  —  "  tinclads,"  Boone  called 
them.  On  November  6th  these  moved.  It  was 
a  dark  night,  and,  as  they  slipped  down  the  river 
on  the  crowded  steamers,  not  a  man  except  the 
Captain  and  his  staff  knew  what  was  to  be  done. 
But,  while  the  gray  mist  still  clung  to  the  bosom  of 
the  stream  and  cloaked  the  banks  on  either  side, 
they  suddenly  understood.  Somewhere  back  from 
the  river  on  the  Missouri  side  lay  a  rebel  camp. 
Just  out  of  range  of  the  big  batteries  which  loomed 
from  the  banks  at  Columbus  opposite,  they  landed. 
Regiment  after  regiment  passed  into  the  mist,  walk- 
ing as  if  the  cracking  of  a  stick  was  to  be  heard 
for  two  miles.  They  moved  away  from  the  river. 
David,  straining  eyes  and  ears,  rode  silently  by  the 
Captain,  until  it  seemed  as  if  they  had  marched  half- 
way across  the  State. 

214 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Then  came  a  shot,  a  score  of  shots,  a  volley.  Sud- 
denly crashing  volleys  and  a  louder  thunder,  and  the 
mist  was  torn  with  sheets  of  flame.  The  sun  looked 
down  on  men  running  forward  and  falling  back, 
and  always  sheets  of  flame  or  a  blaze  of  crimson 
marked  their  line. 

The  ground  was  heavy.  A  corn-field  for  a  time 
hid  the  firing-line.  But  as  the  men  burst  through 
the  thin  fringe  of  stalks  which  withered  on  its  edge, 
the  Captain  shook  his  reins  and  they  galloped  ahead. 
All  at  once  they  were  in  a  belt  of  woodland,  and 
the  bullets  whistled  above  them,  chipping  bark  from 
the  trees.  David  knew  his  knees  pressed  hard 
against  his  horse's  side.  He  felt  the  muscles  of  his 
jaw  twitch.  He  swallowed  something  hard. 

The  Captain  gave  him  a  glance.  "  It's  a  queer 
feeling  the  first  time,"  he  said.  "  But  you'll  soon 
get  used  to  it." 

"  It's  sitting  here  doing  nothing,"  David  an- 
swered. "  If  I  had  a  gun  —  " 

The  Captain  nodded.  "  Let  me  tell  you  some- 
thing. It  was  at  Salt  River  a  few  months  ago. 
We  were  after  Harris.  There  were  many  hills. 
We  rode  up  the  last  one,  expecting  to  find  him  wait- 
ing for  us.  My  heart  jumped  higher  and  higher 
in  my  throat,  and  it  wasn't  the  first  time  for  me. 
But  when  we  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  we  found 
Harris  had  decamped.  My  heart  went  back  to  its 
old  place.  All  at  once  it  struck  me  that  the  enemy 

215 


THE       CAPTAIN 

was  probably  as  much  afraid  of  me  as  I  was  of 
him.  There  is  a  heap  of  comfort  in  that  thought." 

"  There  is,"  David  said,  and  he  meant  it.  But  the 
man  who  sat  so  erect  in  his  saddle  was  a  bigger 
argument  than  the  story  he  told.  Many  times  after- 
ward David's  eyes  sought  out  that  stocky  figure  when 
the  shell  was  shrieking  overhead,  and  drew  confi- 
dence from  the  immovable  face.  To  the  last  it 
was  not  easy  for  him  to  remain  with  idle  hands  when 
under  fire. 

"  They  are  wasting  bullets,"  the  Captain  said, 
after  a  few  minutes  of  broken  firing.  He  rode  for- 
ward. The  men  were  behind  trees.  They  shot  at 
every  glimpse  of  a  gray  jacket  or  puff  of  smoke. 
He  moved  along  the  lines,  and  talked  to  them.  It 
struck  David  that  he  did  it  a  good  deal  as  a  father 
would  with  a  child.  But  it  had  its  effect.  The  firing 
steadied.  The  men  began  to  go  forward. 

Then  there  came  a  break  in  one  place  in  the  flash- 
ing line  which  faced  them;  and  a  hundred  feet  of 
ground  was  gained.  Again  a  break,  and  another 
rush.  Suddenly  there  was  a  sharp  yell,  and  shout- 
ing ran  up  and  down  the  Union  lines.  On  every 
side  the  men  in  blue  and  patched-up  uniforms  con- 
verged, running  at  full  speed  up  the  slope.  Toward 
the  river,  from  three  directions,  fled  the  "gray- 
backs." 

"They've  broken,"  cried  the  Captain,  his  eyes 

216 


THE       CAPTAIN 

sparkling.  Then  they  were  riding  forward  at  a  sharp 
gallop.  All  at  once  they  were  in  the  camp. 

Quick  as  they  had  come,  war  had  already  put 
on  its  ugliest  mask.  On  every  hand  pillage  had  be- 
gun. Horses  were  running  wildly  about.  Supplies 
strewed  the  ground.  Fires  had  been  trampled  out, 
cooking-tins  scattered,  tents  here  and  there  torn 
down,  wagons  stripped  of  their  tilts.  Soldiers  were 
dragging  out  boxes  and  trunks,  ripping  them  open, 
flinging  their  contents  on  the  ground.  Guns  had 
been  cast  aside.  Men  filled  their  pockets  and  arms 
with  whatever  caught  their  fancy.  At  one  side  an 
officer  stood  in  his  stirrups  and  harangued  a  knot 
of  cheering  men.  A  band  came  up  on  the  run,  blow- 
ing and  pounding  with  might  and  main  a  triumphal 
march.  Everything  else  was  forgotten  in  a  frenzy 
of  joy.  Fighting  was  over,  they  yelled.  The  rebels 
had  fled.  Each  man  was  to  have  his  prize. 

Boone  stalked  over,  sweating  and  angry.  David 
had  seen  him  strike  a  man  with  the  flat  of  his 
sword  to  force  him  to  drop  a  leather-covered  box. 
"  It's  no  use.  They've  gone  crazy,"  he  cried. 
"What  can  we  do?" 

But  the  Captain's  eyes  were  bent  on  the  river, 
and  Boone  shaded  his  own  eyes  and  swept  the 
further  bank. 

On  the  opposite  side,  regiment  after  regiment 
was  coming  down  from  Columbus  on  the  double 
quick.  The  shore  was  alive  with  men;  the  river 

217 


THE       CAPTAIN 

dotted  with  crowded  boats;  gun-barrels  gleamed 
in  the  sun. 

The  Captain's  face  carne  about  quickly.  "  Order 
the  men  to  fall  in.  They'll  be  on  us  before  we  can 
reach  the  boats." 

Boone  darted  away.  David  spurred  after  him. 
Up  and  down  the  lines  the  order  ran,  "  Fall  in !  Fall 
in !  "  A  few  obeyed.  The  rest,  drunk  with  joy  at 
their  victory  and  its  spoils,  kept  hard  at  the  looting. 
Officers  threatened  and  plead.  Rawlins  charged 
among  his  men,  his  dark  hair  flying,  his  face  ablaze, 
and  cursed  them  with  such  curses  as  they  had  never 
heard  before.  It  was  in  vain. 

Then  came  the  Captain.  "  Fire  the  tents ! "  he 
ordered. 

It  was  quick  work.  A  tent  smoked,  then  flamed. 
A  dozen  blazes  sprang  up  and  down  the  rows  of 
canvas.  Suddenly  from  the  east  came  a  moaning 
sound,  and  a  wagon  disappeared  in  a  flash  with  a 
terrific  report.  It  was  a  shell  from  the  Columbus 
batteries.  A  moment  later  came  a  blast  of  canister, 
sweeping  like  a  scythe  through  a  cluster  of  men. 

The  shouting  and  cheering  ceased.  There  was 
a  pause.  Then  panic  fell  on  the  human  ant-hive. 
A  cry  went  up,  "  We're  surrounded !  "  The  next 
instant  a  mad  rush  had  begun.  The  boats!  That 
was  all  they  thought  of.  Anything  to  get  away. 

On  either  flank  fell  a  column  of  gray  uniforms, 
sprung  from  the  earth,  it  seemed,  and  back  toward 

2l8 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  boats  the  running  men  were  driven,  their  ranks 
riddled  with  every  volley,  righting  because  it  was 
that  or  be  mowed  down  at  short  range. 

At  last  they  were  opposite  the  steamers,  and  a 
headlong  plunge  down  the  banks  began.  They 
poured  across  the  landing-planks  and  flung  them- 
selves into  the  river,  to  swim  and  clamber  over 
the  gunwales.  Steamer  after  steamer  pulled  out, 
jammed  to  its  guards,  crowded  on  the  river  side 
of  her  so  that  the  opposite  paddle-wheel  spun  in  the 
air. 

All  the  time  the  Captain  sat  his  horse  at  one 
side,  watching  the  panic  with  anxious  eyes,  utter- 
ing sharp,  short  orders  for  bringing  up  the  wounded, 
powerless  to  check  the  mad  rush.  Beside  him  sat 
David.  Nor  be  it  counted  to  his  shame  that,  as 
bullets  sped  more  thickly  overhead,  he  felt  a  cold 
spot  spread  between  his  shoulder-blades  while  his 
heart  told  off  the  seconds  until  the  bullet  should 
arrive  which  was  not  to  miss.  Is  it  the  brave  man 
who  has  never  met  fear?  Or  is  it  the  one  who  sat 
as  he  did,  quiet,  with  tight  lips,  his  fingers  pressing 
the  leather  of  the  bridle  into  his  palms,  and  waited  ? 
Yes,  and,  even  when  the  Captain  turned  and  rode 
off  —  not  down  the  bank  to  the  boats,  but  away  from 
them,  along  the  bank  to  the  south  —  turned  and 
rode  with  him.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  to  hesitate. 
It  seemed  it  was  the  thing  he  should  do.  The  Cap- 

219 


THE       CAPTAIN 

tain  heard  the  thudding  of  hoofs  behind  him,  and 
glanced  back.  But  he  said  nothing. 

Suddenly  he  halted  and  looked  down  into  a  hol- 
low. Then  David  knew  what  they  had  come  for, 
and  knew  that  it  was  a  useless  errand.  When  they 
landed,  a  detachment  had  been  posted  here  to  guard 
the  boats.  Now  it  was  gone,  caught  up  in  the  panic. 

The  Captain's  eyes  flashed.  For  a  moment  he  sat 
where  he  had  halted  on  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  his 
figure  outlined  against  the  sky.  In  that  moment 
something  happened  swiftly. 

Over  the  little  ridge  above  them  suddenly  ap- 
peared a  man  on  horseback,  and  checked  his  horse. 
He  was  not  a  hundred  feet  away.  David's  eyes  pho- 
tographed every  line  of  his  figure  and  face,  from  the 
natty,  booted  legs  and  the  cape  thrown  back  over 
the  shoulder,  to  the  clear-cut,  boyish  features  and  the 
chestnut  hair  curling  from  under  his  hat.  He  knew 
him  at  once.  It  was  Philip  Randolph,  and  in  his 
hand  was  a  pistol.  The  sunlight  glanced  on  its  barrel 
as  it  rose  to  a  level  with  the  eye  and  bore  upon  the 
Captain. 

There  was  no  time  for  warning.  David  leaned 
forward.  His  body  blotted  out  the  figure  in  the 
blue  overcoat  on  the  edge  of  the  bluff.  So  he  sat 
until  it  seemed  as  if  minutes  had  passed,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  man  on  the  ridge.  Then  the  pistol 
was  lowered  and  the  rider  waved  an  arm.  His 

22O 


THE       CAPTAIN 

laugh  rang  out  clearly.  He  backed  behind  the  ridge, 
and  was  gone. 

David's  body  swung  into  the  saddle,  every  muscle 
suddenly  weak.  The  Captain  wheeled  his  horse,  and 
together  they  dug  spurs,  and  raced  for  the 
landing.  Shots  rang  out.  Once  a  bullet  lifted 
David's  cap  from,  his  head.  Behind  him  he  heard 
a  horse  give  a  whistling  snort.  But  he  led  the  way, 
and  soon  had  ridden  down  the  cut  in  the  bank. 

A  bell  jingled  as  he  crossed  the  landing-stage 
to  the  last  steamer.  There  were  shouts  and  the 
churning  of  paddles.  He  dropped  from  the  saddle, 
to  be  flung  sideways  by  the  sudden  lurch  of  the  boat. 
He  scrambled  to  his  feet,  and  saw  the  water  widen- 
ing between  the  boat  and  shore.  But  his  eyes  trav- 
elled further,  and  over  the  top  of  the  bank,  two 
hundred  feet  down-stream,  he  saw  the  Captain's 
mounted  figure  rise  above  the  edge  of  the  steep  clay- 
bank. 

His  shout  of  warning  was  loud,  but  it  was 
drowned  in  the  thunderous  splash  of  the  wheels  and 
the  shouting;  and  he  dashed  for  the  pilot-house. 
In  the  same 'moment  he  saw  Boone  running  forward 
on  the  deck  above  him. 

Slowly,  as  if  it  would  never  come  about,  the  boat 
swung  into  the  bank  below,  and  as  it  touched  and 
a  plank  was  thrown  ashore,  they  saw  a  piece  of 
horsemanship  that  made  them  wonder.  The  Cap- 
tain's reins  tightened,  his  spurs  went  home,  and  his 

221 


THE       CAPTAIN 

mount  plunged.  The  next  instant,  with  fore-legs 
stiffened,  the  horse  slid  down  the  thirty-foot  bank, 
and  the  Captain  was  on  board.  He  dropped  from 
the  saddle  and  walked  to  the  upper  deck.  He  spoke 
to  no  one.  Presently,  with  bullets  crashing  into  its 
upper  works,  the  boat  was  in  midstream,  heading 
away  from  the  batteries. 

Then  the  Captain  turned  to  David.  There  was 
softness  in  the  gray-blue  eyes,  but  he  only  said, 
"  It  was  well  done.  But  you  mustn't  try  it  again. 
I  need  all  of  my  staff-officers." 


222 


XIV 

BEATRIX 

DID  those  Western  volunteers,  who  at  the  end 
of  1 86 1  came  down  to  Cairo  where  the 
Captain  had  headquarters,  ever  forget  the 
weary  weeks  of  November,  December,  and  the 
January  of  the  next  year,  when  through  rain  and 
sleet  and  snow,  with  scanty  days  of  sunshine,  they 
drilled  under  the  eyes  of  the  thick-set  man  in  plain 
uniform  ?  Did  they  ever  cease  to  curse  and  grumble 
at  their  lot?  Were  their  officers  less  restive  under 
a  process  whose  only  purpose  appeared  to  be  to 
march  as  quickly  as  might  be  to  some  place  without 
a  name  and  then  march  back  again?  "  Map-mak- 
ing "  they  called  it.  With  every  march  down  went 
another  line  upon  the  diagrams  over  which  their 
leader  pored  night  after  night.  Again  and  again 
they  were  called  upon  to  study  these  diagrams  and 
tell  what  they  knew  of  their  accuracy  or  offer  sug- 
gestions for  the  making  of  a  new  one. 

If  David  grumbled  less  than  the  rest  it  was  not 
because  he  was  more  patient.    Maps  had  to  do  with 

223 


THE       CAPTAIN 

his  chosen  work.  In  time  too  these  particular  maps 
meant  much  to  him.  He  learned  that  they  were 
more  than  so  many  marks  and  lines  for  streams 
and  towns,  and  hills  and  hollows,  or  stretches  of 
woodland  and  field.  On  them  was  laid  out  the 
great  War  Game. 

One  night  the  Captain  looked  up  from  a  broadside 
of  paper  pinned  to  a  table  top  and  straddled  a  broad 
curving  line  with  two  fingers.  "  There  it  is,"  he 
said.  "  If  we  make  that  point  safe  we  have  the  key 
to  western  Kentucky  and  Tennessee." 

David  recognised  the  broad  line  for  the  Ohio. 
Near  where  the  Captain  pointed  was  a  criss-cross 
of  lines  marked  Paducah.  "  We  have  Paducah," 
he  replied.  "  Doesn't  that  close  the  river  ?  " 

"  From  the  West,  yes.  But  we  must  have  the 
Cumberland  and  Tennessee  Rivers  if  we  mean  to 
go  south.  We  can't  leave  those  two  wasps'  nests 
in  our  rear."  He  laid  a  finger  on  a  spot  on  each  of 
the  rivers.  "  Donelson  and  Henry.  We  must  take 
them  first." 

He  bent  again  over  the  map.  Boone  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  table  frowned  at  David.  They 
both  knew  the  situation.  First  it  had  been  Fremont, 
now  it  was  Halleck,  who  sat  in  St.  Louis  and  said 
"  no  "  to  every  proposal  the  Captain  made  to  push 
to  the  south,  while  he  chafed  under  the  restraint 
and  would  not  yield  his  plan. 

But  if  the  Captain  was  forbidden  to  move  south 

224 


THE       CAPTAIN 

there  was  one  who  declared  her  purpose  to  come 
north  without  delay.  The  news  reached  David  in  a 
letter  from  Lee.  "  Beatrix,"  she  wrote,  "  is  coming 
to  see  me.  And  she  will  come  by  the  river,  just  to 
show  you,  she  says,  how  easy  it  is  to  go  through 
the  Union  lines.  David,  I  wish  I  could  send  you 
her  letter.  But  I  won't,  for  you  would  tear  it  into 
little  pieces.  She  says  the  Northern  troops  are 
afraid  to  move.  '  If  the  Captain  will  only  stay  in 
his  house  at  Cairo  and  play  checkers  awhile  longer  ' 
—  those  are  her  words  —  '  the  soldiers  of  the  South 
will  come  and  kidnap  him  and  the  whole  camp.' 
Tell  me,  David,  is  there  any  chance  of  that  ?  I  hope 
not.  For  I  like"  (David  could  not  be  sure  that  a 
dash  followed  and  turned  the  letter  several  ways 
in  an  attempt  to  decide)  —  "  the  Captain." 

He  slipped  the  letter  into  a  breast  pocket,  smiling 
at  its  mocking  entreaties  to  warn  the  Captain  of  his 
danger.  To  Boone  he  said,  "  Beatrix  Pemberton 
says  she  is  going  to  St.  Louis  through  our  lines. 
Now  I  wonder  if  she  has  any  real  idea  of  trying  it  ?  " 

Boone  did  not  reply,  and  he  repeated  his  question. 

"How  can  I  say?"  was  the  answer. 

"  That's  so,"  David  assented.  "  But  you  must 
meet  her  if  she  does  come  through  here.  And  it's 
more  than  likely.  The  steamer  line  is  still  open 
to  St.  Louis." 

Kitty  wrote  several  times.  She  heard  that  David 
had  got  his  feet  wet.  Wet  feet  were  dangerous.  Did 

225 


THE       CAPTAIN 

he  take  proper  precautions  ?  He  must  remember  he 
had  not  been  a  soldier  long.  He  must  be  very  care- 
ful. Especially  he  must  be  cautious  how  he  handled 
his  gun.  Or  was  it  a  sword?  One  was  as  bad  as 
the  other.  He  was  so  careless.  There  was  that 
day  at  the  Barracks  camp.  How  recklessly  he  held 
his  musket!  Why  not  put  a  cork  on  the  point  of 
the  bayonet?  He  worried  her  dreadfully  with  his 
recklessness. 

There  was  a  picture  of  a  figure,  all  angles,  hold- 
ing fast  to  its  foot,  the  face  contorted  with  agony, 
and  the  legend  beneath,  "  The  brave  soldier  boy. 
( No.  i . )  '  Ground  arms ! '  David  has  that  pic- 
ture yet. 

Just  before  Christmas  came  another  letter  from 
Lee.  Parts  of  it  were  read  to  Boone.  "  '  I  was  in 
St.  Louis  the  other  day  and  saw  Major  Wilkins  — 
General  Wilkins  now.  He  said  he  congratulated 
the  Captain's  wife  recently  on  her  husband's  new 
rank.'  " 

Boone  remarked,  quickly,  "  I  know  about  what 
her  reply  was.  She  has  everlasting  faith  in  him." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  his  mother's  prophecy  ?  " 
inquired  David.  "  She  dreamed  once,  they  say, 
that  he'd  be  President  some  day.  'Lias  told  me 
she  firmly  believes  it  will  come  true." 

"  I  hope  it  will."  Then,  with  great  seriousness, 
"  But  I  have  noticed,  David,  that  mothers  have 

226 


THE       CAPTAIN 

a  way  of  expecting  those  things  to  happen  to  their 
sons." 

David  laughed.  "  At  any  rate,  her  prophecy  is 
on  the  road  to  fulfilment.  They  talk  of  making  him 
a  major-general." 

"So?" 

"  Yes,  it's  the  report  in  St.  Louis." 

"  By  way  of  '  our  own  correspondent '  at  Gra- 
vois  ?  "  appended  Boone.  "  It  may  not  have  struck 
you,"  he  went  on,  "  but  it's  a  fact  to  which  I  would 
call  your  attention,  my  son,  —  merely  by  the  way, 
of  course,  —  that,  for  one  who  so  heartily  disap- 
proves of  the  Black  Abolitionists  and  their  cause, 
a  singular  interest  is  manifested  by  Gravois  in  the 
welfare  of  the  officers  of  this  glorious  army  of  ours." 

"  If  you  refer  to  Miss  Shirley,"  said  David,  stiffly, 
"  she  has  always  had  a  great  deal  of  admiration 
for  the  Captain." 

"  Did  I  say  the  Captain  ?  "  drawled  Boone.  "  Per- 
haps I  did.  But  there  are  other  officers  here  who 
are  not  unknown  in  Gravois."  He  paused.  The 
taunting  smile  faded  from  his  face.  "  No,  David," 
he  said,  soberly,  "  she  has  not  forgotten  the  old 
days  or  the  old  ties.  Pray  God  she  never  may." 

David  looked  over.  There  was  a  moment's  si- 
lence, then  Boone  burst  out,  "  But  some  women 
have!  Why  is  it?  How  are  they  able  to  forget 
everything  but  this  cursed  war?  Why  are  the 

227 


THE       CAPTAIN 

women  of  the  South  so  bitter?  Why  must  they  be 
our  enemies  in  all  things?  " 

David  laid  a  hand  on  the  one  which  rested  on  the 
table  clinched  tightly.  Boone  pulled  it  away.  He 
straightened  up  and  laughed.  "  But  that's  all  gone 
by,"  he  declared.  "  And  you  spoke  about  the  Cap- 
tain being  made  a  major-general.  Some  one  men- 
tioned the  report  to  him  in  my  hearing  last  night. 
Not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved.  '  I  had  not  heard 
of  that,'  he  said.  '  I  don't  want  any  promotion  till 
I've  earned  it.  There  will  be  a  chance  for  every- 
body before  long ! ' 

It  was  the  talk  of  headquarters  that  the  Captain 
assumed  few  of  the  honours  of  his  rank.  Down 
from  St.  Louis  came  a  brigadier-general  of  volun- 
teers, tall,  handsome,  erect,  with  a  splendid  head  of 
white  hair.  It  was  said  he  was  under  a  cloud.  But 
he  had  been  the  Captain's  superior  once,  and  the  Cap- 
tain had  not  forgotten  it.  He  treated  the  old  soldier 
with  a  deference  which  brought  tears  to  his  eyes. 
Afterward  he  instructed  Rawlins,  "  See  that  none 

of  these  stories  about  General are  repeated  over 

our  wires." 

Rawlins  ripped  out  a  curse.  "  Him !  There's 
more  than  talk  of  his  disloyalty.  Why  the  devil 
did  they  send  him  here?  " 

"  Never  mind  about  that.  I've  said  what  I  want 
done." 

Rawlins  bent  over  the  sheaf  of  telegrams  in  his 

228 


THE       CAPTAIN 

hand.  "  All  right,"  he  said.  Then,  looking  up, 
"  But  there's  this  about  it.  More  trouble  is  hatched 
along  this  river  than  we  have  any  idea  of.  If  you 
give  them  too  many  chances  —  " 

"Well?" 

"  They'll  gobble  you  up.  There's  enough  rebel 
feeling  about  these  parts  to  make  it  easy  if  you 
don't  take  care  of  yourself.  They'd  like  first-rate 
to  get  hold  of  you." 

The  Captain  remarked,  "  I  guess  they  won't 
bother  about  me." 

"  The  way  he  always  takes  it,"  Rawlins  muttered, 
as  he  turned  to  his  work.  To  Boone's  inquiry  he 
grunted,  "  It's  these  damn  steamboat  captains.  Half 
of  them  are  working  for  the  rebels.  I'd  have  a 
guard  in  the  pilot-house  of  every  boat  that  goes  up 
the  river,  if  I  had  my  way." 

There  was  frequent  visiting  between  the  lines  in 
those  days.  Twenty  miles  below  Cairo  lay  Colum- 
bus. Across  the  river  just  above  Columbus  was  the 
invisible  boundary  between  the  North  and  South. 
Every  few  days  a  steamer  would  come  up  flying  a 
white  flag.  Then  a  gun  would  be  fired  from  the 
lowest  of  the  Union  fortifications,  and  a  boat  would 
go  down  to  meet  the  steamer.  There  would  be  hand- 
shaking and  an  exchange  of  news.  Rawlins  declared 
that  more  than  once  passengers  were  landed  who 
had  no  good  business  close  to  the  Union  lines. 

At  dusk  one  evening  Boone,  passing  by  a  small 

229 


THE       CAPTAIN 

hotel  on  his  way  to  headquarters,  heard  the  depart- 
ing whistle  of  one  of  these  steamers  as  she  dropped 
down-stream,  and  paused  to  note  the  drift  of  her 
smoke  over  the  tree-tops,  then  faced  about  and 
stood  motionless. 

The  door  had  been  opened  and  a  man  came  out, 
a  slender,  trimly  built  man  in  civilian  clothes.  Be- 
hind him,  for  an  instant,  was  framed  in  the  doorway 
another  figure,  tall  and  splendid,  and  Boone  stared, 
his  heart  as  eager  as  his  eyes,  as  she  turned  and 
the  door  was  closed,  and  she  was  gone.  The  man 
passed  by  him  unnoticed  and  unnoticing,  and  still 
he  stood.  If  only  again  the  door  might  open  and 
he  might  see  her!  Why  did  he  wish  it?  If  she 
saw  him  she  would  not  wait.  And  would  he  go  to 
her?  Would  he?  "  No,  no,"  he  repeated  to  himself. 

He  walked  slowly  away  and  to  his  room.  There 
was  no  mistake.  She  was  here.  She  had  meant 
all  that  she  said  when  she  wrote  that  she  would 
come  to  St.  Louis  and  through  the  Union  lines. 
David  must  not  know  that  she  was  here,  or  learning 
this,  find  him.  And  for  himself  he  would  work 
hard  and  forget.  But  the  night  long  he  flung  him- 
self about  the  bed  and  knew  that  he  had  not  for- 
gotten and  could  not  forget. 

The  morning  he  spent  on  the  outlying  lines,  and 
did  not  see  David.  At  noon  he  got  orders  from 
headquarters.  He  was  to  go  up  to  Girardeau.  A 
steamer  would  leave  that  afternoon.  He  walked 

230 


THE       CAPTAIN 

down  to  the  levee.  It  was  thronged  with  men.  A 
few  torn  bales  of  cotton  were  piled  at  the  end  of  a 
shed.  He  sat  on  one  in  the  shadow  of  the  pile  and 
waited.  For  what?  He  knew,  but  would  not 
acknowledge  it  then.  Roustabouts  ran  up  and  down 
past  him  in  a  double  line,  treading  to  the  humming 
of  a  river  song.  A  .few  passengers  straggled  down 
and  went  aboard.  Two  officers  stopped  near  him, 
and  he  heard  their  conversation  as  they  lighted 
cigars.  Yes,  the  Captain  was  going  up  to  Girardeau 
on  the  Platte  Valley  that  afternoon.  He  had  just 
told  Rawlins  so.  "  Rawlins  wanted  him  to  have  a 
guard,"  said  one.  "  Said  he'd  be  kidnapped  yet." 

"  Rawlins  is  always  harping  on  that,"  remarked 
the  other.  "  They  won't  bother  about  the  Captain. 
Rather  have  what  the  paymaster  carries." 

They  moved  on.  There  came  some  one  else  down 
to  the  steamer.  Boone  was  not  surprised,  but  his 
pulses  leaped  and  he  leaned  forward.  Her  gown 
almost  brushed  his  feet.  A  wide  hat  and  a  veil 
shaded  her  face,  but  the  column  of  her  white  throat 
they  did  not  hide.  The  sun  turned  the  bronze  of 
her  hair  to  gold.  She  walked  slowly.  But  she  did 
not  notice  him.  How  near  he  came  to  reaching  out 
a  hand  and  bidding  her  wait  while  he  told  her 
something!  Beatrix!  Beatrix!  his  heart  cried. 

The  dazzle  of  winter  sunshine  blinded  his  sight 
for  a  moment.  He  brushed  a  hand  across  his  eyes. 
When  he  looked  again  she  was  on  the  gangplank, 

231 


THE       CAPTAIN 

showing  a  paper  to  the  guard  there.  A  moment 
later  she  had  stepped  on  the  deck.  Hurrying  to 
overtake  her  came  a  man  in  black  clothes,  swinging 
a  light  cane.  He  lifted  a  jaunty  hat  as  he  joined 
her  and  they  passed  out  of  sight  to  the  cabin. 
Boone  recognised  him.  He  had  seen  him  the  night 
before  on  the  hotel  steps;  he  had  met  him  at  the 
time  of  that  one  miserable  visit  to  Vicksburg.  Ran- 
dolph was  his  name  and  he  was  her  cousin.  Boone 
had  heard  that  he  was  now  an  officer  in  the  rebel 
cavalry. 

But  if  this  last  fact  was  remembered,  it  was  as 
quickly  forgotten  in  a  realisation  of  what  chance 
had  brought  about  for  him.  He  had  lingered  on 
the  levee  —  now  he  acknowledged  it  —  hugging  the 
hope  that  he  might  see  her  again  before  leaving. 
He  had  seen  her,  and  now  she  was  to  be  with  him, 
on  the  same  steamer,  for  hours.  He  walked  on 
board  slowly,  his  eyes  eagerly  searching  for  what 
he  was  glad  they  did  not  find. 

As  he  reached  the  upper  deck  the  pilot  of  the 
steamer  came  over,  a  tall,  lathy  fellow,  with  a  cast 
in  one  eye.  He  was  reputed  to  be  the  best  pilot  on 
the  river.  "  Gen'ral  goin'  up  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  believe  so,"  Boone  answered. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  we  oughter  get  started  soon. 
Might  as  well  git  loose  anyway,"  the  pilot  remarked, 
and  leaned  over  the  railing  of  the  upper  deck  and 
began  to  shout  orders.  Men  on  the  levee  cast  off  the 

232 


THE       CAPTAIN 

bow  fasts.  A  bell  tingled  below,  the  water  was 
churned  up.  Deck  hands  seized  the  landing  stage. 
But  still  the  steamer  hung  to  the  wharf. 

Then  down  the  narrow,  dirty  street  came  a  square- 
shouldered  man  in  a  long,  loose  coat,  only  the  star 
on  the  straps  at  his  shoulders  to  indicate  his  rank. 
The  Captain  hastened.  But  with  his  foot  on  the 
gangplank  he  was  halted.  One  of  his  aides,  run- 
ning through  the  crowd,  held  out  a  despatch.  The 
Captain  broke  the  seal,  read  it  twice,  and  then  turned 
about  and  sprang  on  the  levee. 

He  spoke  to  the  deck-hands  and  the  plank  was 
pulled  in.  As  the  steamer  began  to  forge  ahead 
Boone  saw  the  thickset  figure  toiling  up  the  street. 
When  the  town  was  hid  by  the  trees  he  found  a 
chair,  and  with  his  feet  against  the  rail  leaned  back ; 
and  for  an  hour  and  more  the  clay  banks  marched 
past  him  and  it  may  have  been  that  he  did  not 
see  them.  He  had  many  things  to  think  about.  He 
started  when  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder. 
"  Come  forward  with  the  crowd,"  said  a  voice.  It 
was  one  of  his  fellow  officers,  and,  because  he  had 
no  good  reason  to  give  for  refusing,  Boone  said  he 
would  come. 

Forward  half  a  dozen  officers  tilted  their  chairs 
and  smoked.  They  made  him  welcome,  and  he 
tried  to  fall  into  the  conversation.  But  his  eyes 
always  roved  astern,  and  he  was  poor  company. 
Presently  one  of  them  complained,  "  The  devil  of  a 

233 


THE       CAPTAIN 

fellow  you  are,  Boone !  Glum  as  a  jellyfish !  What's 
the  matter?" 

"  I  know,"  volunteered  another,  slyly.  He  was  a 
big,  red-faced  Illinois  man.  "  There's  a  girl  aboard. 
I  want  to  tell  you,  she's  a  stunner,  boys.  One  of 
those  beauties.  She  —  " 

"  There  is  ?  "  broke  in  the  first  man.  "  How  was 
it  we  didn't  see  her  ?  A  woman  aboard  and  a  hand- 
some one?  Ye  gods,  look  at  me!  "  He  surveyed 
ruefully  his  worn  uniform. 

The  crowd  laughed.  The  big  man  returned  to 
his  attack.  "  That's  the  trouble  with  Boone.  He 
left  his  good  clothes  behind  him.  Now  that  he 
finds  she's  here  — "  He  gave  a  comical  look  of 
despair. 

Boone  did  not  respond.  He  was  sorry  he  had 
joined  them.  "  Cheer  up,"  one  of  them  advised. 
"  She'll  forgive  old  clothes.  Go  over  and  speak 
to  her.  Present  us." 

Boone's  face  hardened,  and  the  speaker  subsided. 

But  a  companion  went  on.  "  By  the  way,  she 
had  an  escort.  And  somehow  —  " 

"  There  they  both  are  now,"  interrupted  the  Illi- 
nois man.  Boone  looked  up.  They  stood  at  the 
end  of  the  hurricane-deck  almost  immediately  above. 
He  could  see  her  profile,  the  veil  raised,  a  strand  of 
ruddy  hair  blown  across  her  face.  She  was  looking 
over  the  river,  pointing  at  something  on  the  Missouri 
shore.  The  wind  brought  out  the  full,  sweeping 

234 


THE       CAPTAIN 

lines  of  her  figure,  as  she  stood  with  arm  out- 
stretched for  a  moment,  unconscious  of  scrutiny. 
Then  she  must  have  seen  them,  for  she  turned 
quickly,  and  Philip  went  with  her.  The  Illinois  man 
heaved  a  sigh.  "  I  told  you  she  was  a  "Kentucky 
beauty,"  he  said.  "  But  the  man  with  her  —  I've 
seen  him  before.  It  isn't  a  pleasant  recollection 
either,  if  I'm  right." 

"  Perhaps  you  shook  hands  with  him  at  Belmont," 
suggested  one  of  the  circle,  jocosely.  They  all 
laughed.  The  Illinois  man  carried  a  bullet  away 
from  the  retreat  at  that  place. 

The  big  man  brought  his  feet  to  the  deck  with  a 
crash.  "  Belmont  it  was !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I'd 
swear  to  it.  And  that  fellow  wasn't  wearing  civilian 
clothes  or  a  blue  uniform  either  then." 

Boone  started,  but  they  did  not  notice  it.  "  That 
is  not  unlikely,"  he  remarked,  quickly.  "  You  may 
remember  that  there  were  a  good  many  in  our  ranks 
at  Belmont  who  didn't  wear  exactly  a  uniform. 
But  they  fought  well.  And  I  know  this  man.  Also 
I  know  the  lady  he  is  with.  You  will  oblige  me 
by  leaving  them  out  of  our  conversation."  There 
was  a  glint  in  his  eye  which  carried  plain  meaning. 

"  Oh,  all  right,  old  man,  no  offence  was  intended," 
somebody  apologised.  But  the  Illinois  man  shook 
his  head  doubtfully,  though  he  remained  silent;  and 
the  current  of  conversation  grew  almost  stagnant 
for  awhile. 

235 


THE       CAPTAIN 

The  opportunity  came  at  last,  and  Boone  got  up 
and  sauntered  away,  revolving  something  in  his 
mind.  He  walked  to  the  hurricane-deck.  It  was 
empty.  He  went  through  the  cabins.  But  Philip 
was  not  there.  And,  coming  out  of  a  gangway,  he 
was  suddenly  close  to  her.  She  was  alone,  leaning 
her  elbows  on  the  railing.  She  heard  his  footsteps, 
and  looked  over  her  shoulder,  then  quickly  away 
again. 

He  had  not  meant  to  speak  to  her,  but  now  it 
seemed  that  it  was  as  well  he  should.  It  was  a 
message  only.  "If  I  might  offer  a  suggestion," 
he  said,  "it  is  that  you  remain  in  the  cabin  until 
we  reach  Girardeau." 

There  was  no  reply,  and  he  repeated  what  he  had 
said. 

"  Are  you  speaking  to  me?  "  she  asked,  without 
turning. 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,  thank  you  for  the  advice." 

"  It  is  not  advice.    It  is  a  request." 

"  A  request  ?  Pardon  me.  I  think  you  have  made 
a  mistake." 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  he  said,  gravely.  "  And  I 
must  repeat  it." 

"  You  need  not  do  so.     I  heard  what  you  said." 

"  J^nd  you  intend  to  remain  here?" 

She  did  not  answer,  and  he  went  on,  "  Because, 

236 


THE       CAPTAIN 

if  that  is  so,*  I  must  remind  you  that  this  is  a 
Union  steamer." 

"  And,  on  that  account,  not  safe  for  a  lady?  " 

His  face  burned.  "  It  is  not  wise  for  you  to 
remain  here,"  he  answered.  "  I  ask  you  to  leave 
the  deck  until  we  land." 

He  saw  her  lip  curl  as  she  lifted  her  head.  "  How 
long,  may  I  inquire,  have  you  been  in  charge  of 
this  steamer  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  in  charge.  But  I  mean  what  I  say. 
There  is  a  good  reason  for  it,  believe  me." 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  being  told  I  must  do  a 
thing.  I  shall  stay  here."  She  turned  again  to 
the  water. 

After  a  moment  he  said,  steadily,  "  I  am  waiting." 

"  Then  you  are  wasting  your  time,"  she  replied. 
"  If  you  have  said  all  you  have  to  say  —  " 

"  But  I  haven't.  I  have  asked  you  to  do  some- 
thing. Won't  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  gave  my  answer." 

"  I  cannot  accept  that  answer.  I  don't  want 
any  one  else  to  know  —  " 

"  Oh,  you  don't !  "  she  interrupted.  "  You  are 
solicitous." 

"  No,  merely  trying  to  be  of  service." 

"  You  are  going  out  of  your  way.  If  /  am  the 
object  —  " 

His  voice  broke  in,  coldly,  "  You  are  not.  It  is 
your  cousin." 

237 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Did  she  start?  Her  face  was  scarnful  as  she 
leaned  her  back  against  the  railing,  a  hand  resting 
on  either  side.  "  Your  sight,"  she  said,  "  has  grown 
wonderfully  sharp  since  you  joined  the  Yankees. 
Yes,  my  cousin  is  escorting  me.  I  believe  that  is 
my  affair  and  his.  If  you  think  not,  you  will  find 
him  on  the  deck  aft.  He  will  know  how  to  answer 
you.  Go  tell  him." 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  do  that,"  he  replied.  "  This 
is  a  Union  boat;  I  am  a  Union  officer.  I  do  not 
choose  to  know  that  he  —  Won't  you  comprehend  ? 
He  has  been  almost  recognised  already.  And  he 
is  in  the  Confederate  army." 

At  last  he  saw  her  falter.  But  in  an  instant  her 
head  was  erect  and  her  eyes  flashed  back  bravely.  A 
sharp  pain  smote  him.  "  Beatrix !  Beatrix !  "  he 
said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Do  as  I  ask !  " 

Her  arms  dropped  from  the  railing,  and,  for  the 
briefest  moment,  he  saw  something  in  her  face  which 
made  him  lean  forward.  Then  she  laughed,  "  I 
must  do  as  you  demand.  Because  I  am  a  woman  — 
a  Mississippi  woman,  and  this  is  a  Yankee  boat." 
She  stepped  by  him  into  the  gangway,  and  was  gone. 
She  did  not  look  at  him. 

They  were  drawing  near  to  Girardeau.  Here 
the  channel  swung  by  the  Missouri  shore.  The 
current  raced  around  a  bend  and  ran  strongly  across 
stream.  The  steamer  drew  in  until  she  almost 
rubbed  the  low  wooded  bank. 

238 


THE       CAPTAIN 

It  was  growing  cold.  Boone  shook  himself  and, 
walking  away,  mounted  to  the  hurricane-deck. 
Ahead  of  him  the  level  rays  of  the  sun  flashed  in 
the  glasses  of  the  pilot-house,  and  he  made  out  the 
pilot  standing  there,  alone,  his  hands  on  the  wheel. 
Then  in  the  shadow  of  the  house  he  thought  he 
saw  another  figure  stealing  to  the  door.  The  glare 
of  light  blinded  his  eyes.  When  he  looked  again 
the  door  was  closed.  But,  in  the  same  instant,  the 
figure  of  the  pilot  was  gone,  and  the  steamer  sheered 
toward  the  bank.  A  bell  faintly  jingled  below. 

For  a  moment  Boone  waited,  uncertain  that  he 
was  not  mistaken.  Then  he  sprang  forward,  and 
was  at  the  wheel-house  door.  It  was  locked.  He 
dashed  to  a  window.  The  sash  was  closed.  Inside 
a  man  he  did  not  know  peered  through  the  west- 
ern window,  holding  the  wheel  down  hard. 

Boone  drew  a  pistol.  At  the  same  moment  shout- 
ing broke  out  below.  "  Look  out !  Look  out !  Stop 
her!  Back  her!" 

Boone  smashed  the  glass  with  his  pistol  butt,  and 
thrust  the  weapon  through.  But  the  man  at  the 
wheel  had  pulled  open  the  door,  and  was  running  aft. 
He  dashed  around  and  into  the  wheel-house.  The 
pilot  lay  on  the  floor,  blood  trickling  from  his  head. 
As  his  hand  fell  on  the  wheel  the  deck  seemed  to 
slide  from  under  his  feet.  There  was  a  mighty 
lurch,  a  jarring  in  every  timber.  He  was  flung 
against  a  transom  seat.  The  shrieking  of  a  woman 

239 


THE       CAPTAIN 

in  the  cabin  and  the  trampling  and  shouting  forward 
suddenly  ceased.  Then  came  a  cry,  —  a  cry  which 
pierced  the  ears  and  set  every  nerve  quivering,  — 
the  yelp  of  a  dog  magnified  a  hundredfold.  Boone 
was  to  hear  it  many  times  afterward,  and  each  time 
it  made  his  heart  jump.  No  genius  first  gave  the 
rebel  yell,  but  it  remains  the  fiercest  cry  that  comes 
from  human  throat. 

He  pulled  himself  to  his  feet,  his  head  throbbing, 
and  stood  by  the  window,  staring  forward  and  below 
him.  The  engines  had  stopped.  The  bow  of  the 
steamer  was  high  up,  her  nose  almost  against  the 
bank.  The  bank  was  lined  with  men.  Most  of  them 
with  ragged  beards  and  sallow  faces,  clad  in  butter- 
nut, a  few  in  uniform  of  the  Confederate  cavalry. 
All  of  them  were  armed.  Into  the  faces  of  the 
Union  officers  gathered  at  the  rail  gaped  the  muzzle 
of  a  six-pound  gun.  Behind  all,  the  thick  woods 
from  which  the  surprise  had  been  sprung. 

There  had  been  more  than  one  case  of  piracy  by 
guerillas,  but  this  one,  Boone  believed,  had  a  bigger 
purpose.  The  paymaster's  funds  were  aboard,  but 
it  was  something  else  they  sought.  Rawlins's  warn- 
ings flashed  on  him.  He  believed  he  knew  why 
it  was  that  the  tall,  dashing  fellow  in  wide  hat 
and  high,  mud-splashed  boots  gazed  so  hard  from 
the  bank  at  the  knot  of  Union  officers  on  the 
steamer's  deck.  And,  if  he  was  right  in  this,  Boone 
told  himself  there  was  to  be  a  disappointment.  For, 

240 


THE       CAPTAIN 

miles  down  the  river,  about  this  time,  the  Captain 
was  in  a  room  that  overlooked  the  levee  of  a  dirty 
little  town,  busy  with  his  correspondence. 

The  Confederates  began  to  clamber  aboard.  A 
little  huddle  of  frightened  passengers  awaited  them, 
a  cry  now  and  then  coming  from  the  women.  It 
was  all  over  so  far  as  doing  anything  for  the  Platte 
Valley  or  what  she  carried.  Boone  gave  a  glance  to 
the  pilot  of  the  steamer  lying  on  the  floor  and  begin- 
ning to  moan,  then  slipped  out  of  the  house  and 
crawled  swiftly  aft,  and  so  to  the  deck  below.  From 
up  the  engine-room  companionways  poured  the  engi- 
neers and  stokers.  The  cabins  were  unlighted  and 
deserted.  No,  not  quite  deserted.  There  was  one. 
Boone,  with  a  stab  of  reproach,  remembering  her, 
turned  into  the  nearest  door  and  came  upon  her, 
standing  alone  in  the  dusk. 

"  Beatrix,"  he  said. 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  "  what  are  you  here  for?  " 

"  To  be  with  you,"  he  answered,  simply.  "  They 
have  taken  the  steamer." 

"  Then  go !  "  she  said.  "  Go !  I  am  not  alone. 
Philip  is  with  me.  Go!  Go!" 

"  Philip  is  not  here." 

"  He  has  gone  forward.  He  will  come  back  at 
once.  I  am  in  no  danger.  Besides  "  —  the  entreaty 
fled  from  her  face  —  "I  am  a  Southern  woman. 
These  are  Southern  soldiers.  I  do  not  need  your 
protection." 

241 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  But  I  will  stay,"  he  said,  "  until  your  cousin 
comes." 

"Then  it  will  be  too  late,"  she  cried.  "You 
must  go  now.  Go,  I  tell  you!  I  do  not  want  you, 
do  you  understand  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer.  Some  one  was  coming 
along  the  deck.  A  voice  called,  "  In  here?  " 

"  You  must  understand,"  she  said,  swiftly,  and 
ran  to  the  doorway.  Against  the  western  sky  her 
figure  and  the  figures  of  the  two  men  who  faced 
her  stood  out  clearly.  One  of  them  was  her  cousin. 
The  other,  the  tall  man  in  high  boots  who  had  been 
on  the  bank,  now  with  his  hat  off  and  a  hand  held 
out,  cried  her  name.  And  Boone  knew  him,  and  for 
a  moment  stood  unnoticed  in  the  dimness  of  the 
cabin,  then  slipped  away,  caring  little  which  way  he 
went. 

She  had  told  him  to  go.  Where?  He  looked 
across  the  river.  It  was  too  wide  to  swim.  And 
a  hundred  feet  of  water  ran  between  him  and  the 
nearer  shore.  The  bank  was  lined  with  his  enemies. 
If  he  trusted  himself  to  the  open  water  they  would 
pick  him  off  at  their  leisure  as  he  swam.  Then  a 
wrathful  stubbornness  not  to  be  taken  rose  in  him; 
and,  almost  at  his  feet,  he  saw  a  chance  of  escape. 

A  rope  fender  hung  over  the  side  of  the  steamer. 
He  slipped  between  the  rails,  caught  the  rope  with 
his  feet,  and  slid  down.  As  his  head  passed  under 
the  top  rail,  his  cap  was  brushed  off  and  fell  on  the 

242 


THE       CAPTAIN 

deck.  It  was  leaving  dangerous  evidence  behind. 
At  the  same  moment  he  saw  Beatrix  again.  She 
was  standing  in  the  gangway.  She  faced  the  two 
men,  and  he  was  almost  sure  she  saw  him.  But  as 
his  feet  entered  the  water  he  heard  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps above,  and  lowered  himself  until  only  his  chin 
was  above  water.  The  current  sucked  him  close  to 
the  steamer's  side.  The  bend  of  the  hull  where  it 
tumbled  into  the  stern  hid  him  from  above.  So  he 
clung  to  the  trailing  end  of  the  rope,  and  floated. 

He  heard  men  passing  and  repassing  on  the  deck. 
They  shouted  to  one  another  and  called  to  the  banks. 
Once  there  was  a  yell  of  triumph.  The  paymaster's 
funds!  Half  an  hour  went  by.  He  was  growing 
stiff,  the  water  was  icy  cold,  a  breeze  played  over  his 
shoulders.  The  noise  subsided. 

Then  abruptly  a  voice.  The  speaker  halted  above 
him.  He  should  be  on  the  very  spot  where  the  cap 
lay.  Boone  waited  for  a  sign  of  its  discovery.  But 
none  came.  A  woman  spoke,  and  he  knew  it  was 
Beatrix.  "  If  you  wait  here,  they  never  will  find 
him." 

A  man's  voice  in  reply.  Boone  knew  it  instantly. 
"  I  reckon  they'll  pull  him  out.  Give  them  time.  I 
will  stay  here,  if  you'll  allow  me." 

"  Oh,  certainly,  if  you  wish.  But  it  will  soon 
be  dark.  This  terrible  Captain  may  give  you  the 
slip." 

243 


THE       CAPTAIN 

A  laugh.  "  Don't  worry.  We  have  him  on  the 
boat.  My  men  will  find  him." 

Beatrix  answered,  "  You  talk  as  if  it  did  not 
matter  whether  you  caught  him  or  not.  I  have 
heard  it  said  that  it  would  be  as  good  as  winning 
a  battle  to  capture  him." 

"  So  it  will  be.  We  have  been  waiting  a  long 
time.  The  chance  only  came  to-day.  We  got  word 
from  Cairo  he  would  go  up  this  afternoon.  I 
was  ordered  out.  That  is  the  wonderful  part  of  it. 
You  —  coming  on  the  same  steamer.  It  almost 
seems  —  " 

"  As  if  it  was  not  as  simple  as  it  really  is  ?  You 
are  mistaken.  It  is  very  commonplace.  Philip  was 
going  to  St.  Louis.  I  had  made  a  promise  to  go 
there.  This  way  suited  me  best.  So  I  took  the 
first  steamer  which  was  sailing.  I  reckon  you  can 
make  nothing  wonderful  out  of  that.  And,  if  I 
had  known  this  would  happen  —  " 

"  You  wouldn't  have  come  on  her,  Beatrix  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  ?  I  wish  to  get  to  St.  Louis. 
And  the  hours  I  have  spent  since  we  left  Cairo  — 
stared  at  by  Yankee  officers!  Ugh!  It  has  been 
detestable." 

"  They  will  not  stare  at  you  again  for  some  time 
to  come,"  he  remarked. 

"  But  here  I  am !  "  she  said,  angrily.  "  You  do 
not  seem  to  think  of  that.  And  I  must  ride  —  I 
don't  know  how  far  —  to  go  on." 

244 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Beatrix."  He  repeated  her  name  and  again, 
"  Beatrix,  can't  you  give  a  little  while  to  me?  It  is 
two  months  since  I  saw  you." 

"  So  long,  Major  Carson.  Now,  I  reckon  you're 
wrong." 

There  was  a  ripple  in  the  water  at  their  feet,  but 
the  Mississippi  is  a  mighty  stream  and  keeps  its 
secrets  to  itself  when  it  wills.  The  man  who  rested 
on  its  breast  loosed  his  clutch  to  float  away.  But 
he  looked  across,  and  he  saw  that  the  twilight  lay 
on  the  surface  of  the  river.  And  he  meant  to  live. 

Above  him  there  were  reproaches,  recollections. 
"  I  am  not  wrong.  It  was  a  Sunday  —  the  last  in 
August.  It  was  at  church  in  Vicksburg.  Afterward 
we  walked  along  Open  Woods  Street,  under  the 
china-trees.  We  were  alone.  Don't  you  remember  ? 
I  rode  away  that  afternoon."  Then,  after  a  wait, 
"  You  do  remember,  Beatrix.  I  asked  you  some- 
thing. You  said  you  would  answer  me  when  I  came 
back.  I  am  going  away  again  in  a  few  minutes. 
I  have  waited  a  long  time  —  won't  you  tell  me 
what  I  want  ?  " 

Suddenly  a  third  voice  spoke  from  close  at  hand. 
Boone  recognised  Philip's  voice.  "  Oh,  here  you 
are!  I've  been  looking  for  you.  We  must  be  off, 
Beatrix.  I  have  borrowed  a  couple  of  horses.  Your 
brigadier  is  not  on  board,  Carson." 

"Not  on  board?" 

"  No.      Your    men    have    searched    everywhere. 

245 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Anyhow,  I  do  not  think  he  is  the  sort  of  man  to 
hide  to  be  pulled  out.  Those  Union  officers  are 
laughing  at  you.  They  say  he  never  came  aboard." 

"  It  seems  you  are  not  a  success  at  this  sort  of 
thing,"  Beatrix  remarked. 

"  That  is  not  fair,"  Carson  protested.  "  He  is 
on  board.  You  must  have  seen  him." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  she  answered,  "  I  did  not 
see  him  after  we  started.  I  agree  with  the  Yankees 
you  captured.  He  didn't  come  on  board.  You  had 
a  man  on  the  steamer,  —  the  one  who  ran  us 
aground.  Why  didn't  he  tell  you  ?  " 

"  He  did,"  returned  Carson,  quickly.  "  He  said  he 
saw  him  at  the  levee,  coming  aboard.  If  he  is  not 
here,  he  got  off  because  he  was  warned." 

"  Warned?  "  she  laughed.  "  Is  that  your  excuse? 
Then  why  did  his  officers  come?  And  who  was 
to  warn  him,  Philip?  I?  We  neither  of  us  knew 
of  your  plan,  thanking  you  for  the  compliment, 
Major." 

Suddenly  Philip  struck  a  hand  on  the  rail.  "  But 
there  was  another  officer  on  board ! "  he  cried. 
"  Hadley !  We  have  all  the  rest.  He  must  be  on 
the  steamer.  There  is  no  chance  to  escape  with 
that  light  on  the  river.  Stay  here,  Carson,  I  know 
him.  We'll  find  him  yet."  Boone  heard  him  run 
along  the  deck  forward.  Then  there  was  silence 
except  for  the  calls  of  the  men  from  the  bank  and 

246 


THE       CAPTAIN 

on  the  steamer,  and  the  murmur  of  the  stream. 
Darkness  was  settling  on  the  river. 

Presently  Carson  spoke.  "  Boone  Hadley  was  on 
the  boat  with  you.  You  saw  him,  and  he  spoke  to 
you.  You  helped  him  to  escape." 

"  Major  Carson !  "  proudly. 

"  Forgive  me.  I  did  not  mean  that.  But  you 
did  see  him.  Ah,  Beatrix !  I  thought  —  "  His 
voice  died  away.  Then  he  said  steadily,  and  it 
was  almost  in  Boone's  heart  to  pity  him,  "  Beatrix, 
be  honest  with  me.  Is  it  still  —  the  same  way?  " 

Boone  heard  her  laugh,  though  it  was  very  faint. 
"  Do  you  reckon  I  could  be  in  love  with  a  Yankee ! 
I  would  not  give  that  for  him !  " 

Something  fell  from  the  deck  into  the  water  and 
floated  to  Boone's  hand.  It  was  his  cap. 


247 


XV 

THICKER 
THAN  WATER 

THREE  days  later  when  Boone  landed  at 
Cairo  from  a  down-river  steamer,  there  was 
an  interview  with  the  Captain  at  which  no 
one  else  was  present.  The  Platte  Valley  had  pulled 
off,  minus  eight  Union  officers  and  her  gold.  The 
tale  of  her  seizure  travelled  piecemeal  to  head- 
quarters. Boone's  report  was  succinct  and  strictly 
official.  A  few  days  later  a  surprise.  For  important 
services  rendered  at  various  times,  a  recommenda- 
tion for  an  advance  in  grade  for  him  was  to  be 
forwarded  to  St.  Louis.  For  capacity  and  because 
the  need  was  pressing,  a  place  awaited  him  on  the 
staff  and  was  to  be  filled  within  a  week.  Boone's 
astounded  thanks  were  silenced  with  a  curt  order 
to  report  his  arrival  immediately  to  his  colonel. 

As  a  result  of  the  experience  of  the  Platte  Valley, 
commerce  south  of  Girardeau  was  cut  off.  And 
thereby  the  Captain  made  a  host  of  new  and  power- 
ful enemies.  It  was  his  first  blow  at  the  speculators, 
the  men  who  use  war  as  a  cupper  uses  a  leech; 

248 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  they  resented  it.  Time  and  time  again  in  the 
next  two  years  he  learned  of  their  enmity.  A  man 
may  tread  his  weaknesses  under  foot,  but  those 
who  search  will  always  find  them  in  the  dust,  and 
his  head  must  be  very  high  if  they  do  not  smirch 
him. 

The  Captain's  head  was  not  yet  so  high.  Read 
the  newspapers  of  that  year  of  1862  if  you  would 
learn  that  his  name  went  no  further  than  the  strip 
of  country  along  the  Mississippi  where  he  had  com- 
mand—  that  at  St.  Louis,  where  his  chief  sat,  it 
was  no  more  than  those  of  a  dozen  in  the  field 
who  made  failures  of  the  splendid  campaigns  of 
one  who  distrusted  all  who  were  under  him. 

Those  who  believed  in  the  Captain  saw  him  daily 
at  his  desk  during  these  weeks,  doing  the  work  of 
three  with  letters,  telegrams,  and  maps,  watching 
the  drill  which  seemed  eternal,  his  uniform  often 
discarded  for  the  shabby  long  overcoat  and  slouch- 
hat  and  boots  which  were  not,  but  might  well  have 
been,  the  coat  and  hat  and  boots  of  Gravois  and 
Galena  days. 

There  were  others,  too,  who  slowly  were  learning 
his  worth.  Among  them  the  correspondents  of  the 
papers  which  sought  to  undo  what  he  was  trying 
to  accomplish.  "  The  truth,"  he  told  them,  "  always 
has  the  right  of  way."  So  Rawlins  swore  and 
obeyed,  and  the  men  who  carried  their  despatches  to 
him  for  approval  smiled,  but  looked  with  new  respect 

249 


THE       CAPTAIN 

on  the  square-shouldered  officer  with  the  brown 
beard  and  sober  face,  who  talked  little,  but  talked 
always  to  the  point. 

It  was  Halleck's  order  that  the  army  should 
harbour  no  fugitive  slaves.  The  Captain  carried 
out  the  order.  But  he  went  no  further.  The  army, 
he  made  it  understood,  was  not  to  be  used  to  hunt 
out  and  return  these  slaves.  Then  up  rose  the 
owners  of  fugitive  negroes  along  the  Mississippi 
banks,  and  with  them  the  army  contractors  who 
found  their  cheating  stopped.  And  the  Captain 
heard  and  was  silent  while  they  worked  with  might 
and  main  to  destroy  him  with  stories  of  his  tyranny 
and  worse. 

In  consequence  of  which  David  had  a  difficult 
letter  to  write. 

From  St.  Louis  had  come  orders  to  make  a  big 
demonstration  in  Western  Kentucky.  The  story 
went  around  that  this  was  only  the  advance  move  in 
a  campaign  which  would  bring  thirty  thousand  sol- 
diers from  Missouri.  Cairo  was  thronged  with  cor- 
respondents. They  understood  it  was  to  be  a  rapid 
march  and  a  hard  one.  They  made  a  formal  demand 
on  headquarters  for  horses  for  their  personal  use. 
Rawlins  answered  that  the  Captain  didn't  keep  a 
livery-stable.  To  which  the"  same  gentleman  who 
had  once  drawn  such  a  remarkable  picture  of  the 
Captain  returned,  drily,  "  Well,  he  might  as  well 

250 


THE       CAPTAIN 

keep  one.  There  are  asses  enough  around  head- 
quarters." . 

But  these  were  but  the  amenities  of  camp  life. 
When  Rawlins  related  the  incident,  and  in  pictur- 
esque vernacular  described  how  he  would  punish 
such  insolence,  the  Captain  laughed.  "  Take  it  easy, 
Rawlins.  It  was  '  asses/  not  an  '  ass/  remember." 

The  Captain  had  weightier  business  than  resent- 
ing hot  words.  The  expedition  started  through  a 
slough  of  Kentucky  mud.  Would-be  sutlers  and 
contractors  swarmed  about  headquarters  persist- 
ently. One  evening  after  a  hard  day's  march  the 
Captain  called  David  into  the  house  which  had  been 
made  headquarters.  He  had  received  an  application, 
he  said,  to  supply  fodder.  He  wished  it  answered. 
"  The  application  came  the  day  we  started,"  he 
said.  "  I  held  it  over.  But  I  can't  give  the  con- 
tract, and  I  want  you  to  explain  just  why  I  can't. 
It's  from  Gravois,  and  I  like  to  show  them  up  there 
that  I  haven't  forgotten  my  neighbours.  Answer 
it  to-night."  He  handed  David  the  letter.  It  was 
signed  Felix  Mayhew. 

David  read  it.  There  were  very  good  reasons 
which  he  knew,  and  the  Captain  did  not,  why  it 
was  not  easy  for  him  to  write  the  reply  as  ordered. 
He  had  been  struggling  with  pen  and  paper  for 
half  an  hour  when  Boone  entered.  "  Drop  that 
and  join  us,"  he  said. 


251 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  I  can't,"  answered  David.  "  I'm  very  busy 
here  with  a  letter." 

"  A  letter  ?  So  it  is !  "  Boone  feigned  to  see  it 
for  the  first  time.  He  pursed  his  lips. 

David  flushed.  "  It's  an  official  letter.  One  from 
headquarters.  Get  out,  I'm  busy." 

"  Oh,  come  on,"  urged  Boone.  "  Finish  it  to- 
night. You'll  put  your  eyes  out." 

"  I'm  bound  to  stay  here,"  returned  David,  and 
bent  over  his  work.  It  was  late  when  the  letter  was 
finished.  Its  writer,  turning  in,  found  Boone  al- 
ready asleep. 

The  next  morning  there  was  trouble  in  camp. 
The  woman  of  the  house  which  had  been  made 
headquarters  reported  to  the  Captain  that  her  bee- 
hives had  been  robbed  in  the  night.  She  had  come 
upon  one  of  the  thieves  running  away.  She  would 
not  be  able  to  identify  him  because  of  the  darkness, 
but  she  had  demanded  which  regiment  he  came  from, 
and  he  had  answered,  "  The  Twenty-second  Illi- 
nois." 

The  Captain  was  wroth.  The  regiment  was 
drawn  up.  The  regulations  against  taking  private 
property  were  read  to  it.  Boone  was  ordered  to 
make  an  address.  And  so  he  did,  reluctantly,  but 
eloquently.  The  Captain,  he  told  them,  was  deeply 
grieved  by  the  occurrence.  The  Twenty-second  had 
distinguished  itself  in  battle.  It  was  regarded  as 
a  regiment  of  soldiers.  Petty  stealing  was  beneath 

252 


THE       CAPTAIN 

soldiers.  The  offence  could  not  be  passed  over.  An 
example  must  be  made.  As  the  guilty  persons  could 
not  be  singled  out,  a  fine  of  five  dollars  was  imposed 
on  each  officer  of  the  regiment  and  a  fine  of  one 
dollar  on  each  private.  The  regiment  received  its 
sentence  in  silence.  Then  the  order  to  march  was 
given,  and  the  regiment  started. 

But  a  little  later,  when  the  Captain  rode  to  the 
front  and  passed  the  Twenty-second,  not  a  cheer 
was  given.  Hardly  was  he  out  of  hearing  when 
a  singsong  chant  began : 

"  Who  stole  the  honey?" 

Five  hundred  voices  in  unison  declared  it  was 
stolen  by  the  Captain's  staff. 

"  Who  ate  the  honey?"  demanded  the  chorus. 

Again  the  reply,  "  It  was  the  Captain's  staff." 

"  But  who  had  to  pay  for  the  honey? "  wailed 
the  chorus. 

"  The  Twenty-second  Illinois"  groaned  every 
man. 

David  turned  to  Boone.    "Hear  that?" 

Boone  nodded.  "  And  it's  the  truth,"  he  said, 
sadly. 

"What?". 

"Yes.  The  staff  stole  that  honey,  last  night. 
I  was  the  fellow  the  old  woman  caught.  And 
I  was  '  of  the  Twenty-second  '  —  lately.  Now  I've 
got  to  square  it  with  the  Captain.  And  oh,  Lord! 
it  was  poor  honey." 

253 


THE       CAPTAIN 

What  the  Captain  said  is  not  on  record.  But  the 
fines  were  not  collected,  and  Boone  was  in  disgrace 
for  a  month. 

That  great  Kentucky  campaign  will  be  remem- 
bered by  the  campaigners  chiefly  for  its  record  of 
mud,  —  yellow  mud,  black  mud,  red,  sticky  mud 
—  and  rains.  In  a  week  the  expedition  was  back 
at  Cairo.  That  was  all  there  was  to  it.  But  the 
march  settled  one  thing  for  the  Captain.  He  deter- 
mined to  have  that  point  on  the  Ohio  River  which 
months  before  he  had  told  David  they  should  control. 
But  first  he  must  take  the  two  big  forts  which 
watched  it  on  the  south  from  twin  rivers.  So  he 
went  to  St.  Louis  to  try  to  persuade  Halleck  to  this 
plan,  and  took  David  with  him. 

But  the  military  genius  at  St.  Louis  who  presided 
over  the  destinies  of  those  western  forces  was  not 
easy  to  see,  and  often  less  easy  to  deal  with  when 
seen.  While  the  Captain  waited  on  his  decision 
David  went  to  Gravois. 

As  he  rode  into  the  settlement  it 'satisfied  him 
at  first  to  look  at  the  country-side  and  recognise 
the  houses  which  stood  out  boldly  on  the  ridges, 
in  the  winter  landscape  of  a  bleak  day.  It  was  very 
good  to  see  them  all  again.  It  had  been  years  since 
he  last  saw  the  place, —  the  years  which  are  a  month 
on  the  calendar,  but  which  those  who  are  away  from 
the  spot  they  love  count  as  years. 

He  was  passing  Colonel  Marshall's  when  one  of 

254 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  house  servants  overtook  him,  and  handed  him 
a  note.  It  was  in  Kitty's  handwriting.  "  Yes,  I 
am  at  home,"  it  ran.  "  And  so  glad  you  came  to 
see  me.  Jackson  will  take  your  horse." 

What  was  there  for  David  to  do?  He  rode  up 
the  avenue,  and,  if  a  trace  of  disappointment  at  his 
summary  invitation  lingered  with  him,  Kitty's  wel- 
come dissipated  it.  "  You  see,"  she  said,  "  I  saw 
you  coming  along  the  road.  It  was  earlier  than 
I  had  expected  you  and  I  was  afraid  you  might 
think  I  was  not  ready  to  receive  you,  and  ride  on. 
So  —  I'm  glad  you  came." 

"  Kitty,"  he  said,  sadly,  "  I  see  no  change.  It  is 
time  you  were  learning." 

"  Respect  for  you  ?  How  can  you  expect  it  ?  I 
knew  you,  David,  before  you  put  on  a  uniform. 
I  never  feared  you  but  once.  The  day  you  were 
having  such  a  hard  time  with  that  new  gun  at  the 
Barracks'  camp." 

"  That  is  quite  a  long  time  back,"  he  remarked. 
"  A  good  many  things  have  happened  since  then." 

"  For  instance?  " 

"  Oswald's  new  commission."  David  was  wise  in 
his  generation.  Her  face  glowed.  Had  he  heard 
how  Oswald  earned  the  promotion?  It  was  this 
way.  David  listened  with  interest.  He  had  had 
the  impression  till  now  that  Oswald  was  not  alone 
in  the  action  concerned,  but  his  understanding  was 
plainly  at  fault.  Oswald  was  in  imminent  danger 

255 


THE       CAPTAIN 

of  being  made  a  brigadier.  So  the  story  ran,  and 
he  did  not  interrupt.  But  presently  she  offered  him 
the  opportunity  to  ask,  "  And  your  father  is  still 
in  Virginia?  " 

She  nodded.  "  He  has  been  home  once.  He  tried 
to  take  some  one  away  with  him  when  he  went  back. 
Guess  who." 

David  could  not.  "  The  Doctor,"  she  said. 
"  Father  was  with  him  a  good  deal.  But  the  Doctor 
would  not  go  yet.  You  can  understand  why?" 

"  I  think  I  can.  And  he  should  not  go.  The 
army  is  the  last  place  for  him." 

"  So  Aunt  Sarah  told  him.  But  that  was  only  one 
of  the  reasons  she  gave.  Oh,  Aunt  Sarah  worked 
hard  the  moment  she  saw  what  was  in  the  wind. 
And  father  never  suspected  till  the  last  that  his  plans 
were  being  undermined  by  her.  When  he  did! 
Well,  David,  I  think  you  know  father  and  Aunt 
Sarah.  The  crisis  came  right  here.  The  Doctor 
was  come  to  supper  with  Lee,  and  father  had  been 
out  of  the  room  a  few  minutes.  When  he  came 
back !  "  —  Kitty  cast  her  eyes  to  the  ceiling.  "  Lee 
and  I  were  up-stairs,"  she  explained.  "  We  ran 
down  as  fast  as  we  could.  But  really,  David,  I 
expected  to  find  the  Doctor  pulled  apart,  and  father 
taking  the  Confederate  half  of  him  out  the  door, 
while  Aunt  Sarah  held  fast  to  her  share." 

David  smiled,  but  it  was  with  the  Doctor  himself 
that  his  thought  was  busy.  To  Colonel  Marshall 

256 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  to  Miss  Sarah  Pinckney,  those  two  bitter 
disputants,  all  was  plain.  For  the  Doctor,  he  was 
sure,  there  had  been  hours  of  suffering  because  he 
could  not  see  his  way,  of  which  they  never  guessed. 

"  I  have  told  you  something,"  said  Kitty,  stiffly. 
"  I  will  repeat  it  if  you  did  not  hear." 

David  asked  her  pardon.  "  The  fact  is  —  "  he 
went  on. 

"  The  fact  is,"  she  broke  in,  severely,  "  you  are 
wondering  how  much  longer  it  will  be  till  you  can 
politely  say  good-bye.  I  will  help  you.  Tell  Lee 
I  sent  you  with  my  compliments.  You  are  so 
stupid." 

David  rose.  "  All  right,"  he  said.  "  If  you  put 
me  out  I  must  go.  But  I  shall  leave  this  with  you. 
It  is  only  fair."  He  laid  the  note  which  the  servant 
had  given  him  on  the  arm  of  the  chair.  "  I  am 
'  so  stupid/  "  he  added.  "  I  might  —  " 

"  What?  "    She  twisted  the  note  in  her  fingers. 

"  Send  it  to  Oswald." 

Her  fingers  suddenly  were  still.  "  David,  I  want 
you  to  promise  me  that  you  won't  mention  this  note," 
she  said,  with  much  concern. 

He  laughed.  "  Why,  of  course,  I  won't."  And 
then,  if  it  had  not  been  that  he  was  doing  what  she 
asked,  he  would  have  sworn  that  she  looked  disap- 
pointed. 

But  as  he  galloped  along  the  Gravois  road  and 
under  the  elms  which  now  waved  bare  branches 

257 


THE       CAPTAIN 

over  the  driveway  to  the  big  white  house  he  was 
not  concerning  himself  with  reflections  on  Miss 
Marshall's  conduct.  A  curious  anticipation  took 
hold  of  him,  when  he  was  ushered  into  the  library 
and  found  himself  in  the  company  of  those  familiar 
rows  of  book-shelves.  It  may  have  been  vexation 
at  the  time  he  had  lost. 

But,  David,  was  it  vexation  on  your  face  when 
a  white  hand  lifted  the  curtain  in  the  doorway  and 
she  was  standing  there?  Where  was  your  military 
bearing  fled  when  she  stepped  but  one  pace  toward 
you  and  made  that  deep  curtsy?  How  was  it  that 
the  greeting,  "  Good  evening,  Captain,"  wrought 
confusion  in  your  countenance  ?  It  was  spoken  with 
sobriety.  You  had  been  addressed  that  way  for 
many  weeks. 

Yet  you  halted  in  your  reply.  You  knew  you 
did  and  were  not  ashamed.  Perhaps  there  was  a 
friendly  message  in  the  hands  she  laid  in  yours 
which  made  you  forget  so  quickly  that  this  was  an 
enemy  to  your  cause.  However  this  may  have  been, 
a  winter  evening  had  never  fallen  more  quickly. 
There  were  many  things  to  hear. 

There  was  the  intelligence  that  the  Captain  had 
nearly  been  captured  on  a  Mississippi  steamer. 
How  had  she  heard  that? 

"  Why,  from  Beatrix,  to  be  sure,"  she  answered. 
"You  knew  she  had  been  here?" 

"  No,  I  didn't  know,"  he  answered.     "  When?  " 

258 


"  Two  months  ago  now.  They  came  up  part  way 
by  the  river." 

"They?" 

"  Captain  Randolph,"  she  said,  slowly,  and  then 
laughing,  "  How  ridiculous  that  sounds.  '  Philip,'  of 
course." 

Of  course.  What  was  there  in  the  words  which 
made  him  repeat  them  to  himself?  He  did  not 
reply,  and  she  went  on,  "  They  came  up  on  that 
visit  which  Beatrix  had  promised  to  make.  You 
remember  I  wrote  you  that  she  said  she  would 
come.  She  went  right  through  the  Union  lines,  too, 
as  she  declared  she  would.  But  —  Well,  she  could 
not  come  alone.  So  Philip  came  with  her,  of  course." 

Again  that  "  of  course."  It  was  so  distinctly 
irritating  that  David  frowned.  But  he  acquiesced, 
"  I  remember  now.  So  she  carried  out  her  threat. 
I  wish  I  had  seen  her.  How  long  was  she  here  ?  " 

"  More  than  two  weeks.  But  Philip  was  here 
only  a  week.  You  see  there  was  some  danger  that 
he  might  be  —  "  She  paused.  "  I  forgot  you  were 
a  Yankee  officer,"  she  explained.  "  I  shall  tell  you 
no  more  secrets." 

He  answered,  stiffly,  "  No,  you  had  better  not  if 
they  are  secrets.  And  Mr.  Randolph  —  " 

"  Captain  Randolph." 

"  Captain  Randolph  would  be  wise  not  to  try 
to  come  North  again.  It  is  dangerous.  Something 
might  happen."  He  was  gazing  moodily  into  the 

259 


THE       CAPTAIN 

fire,  and  she  regarded  him  unnoticed.  "  David,"  she 
said,  at  last,  "  Philip  likes  you.  He  told  me  of 
something  you  did  at  Belmont.  How  is  it  I  never 
heard  of  it  before?  " 

"What  was  it?" 

"  It  was  something  you  did  for  the  Captain. 
Philip  said  it  was  about  as  brave  a  thing  as  he  had 
ever  seen,  and  he  would  like  to  shake  your  hand 
for  it." 

His  face  burned  now.  "  Oh,  that !  It  wasn't 
anything  after  all,"  he  said,  bluntly.  "  I  didn't  have 
time  to  think  it  out.  But  what  he  did !  That  was 
different.  It  was  fine."  Then,  noticing  her  puzzled 
brows,  "  You  knew  that  he  was  the  man  who  didn't 
fire  at  us  when  he  had  the  chance?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  quietly.  "  He  did  not  tell  me 
that."  Her  eyes  were  glistening.  "  David,"  she 
added,  "  you  two  should  be  friends." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  we  are,"  he  declared.  "  That 
is,  I  am  his  friend  as  much  as  any  one  who  is  for 
the  Union  could  be  just  now." 

"  Is  it  that  way  even  with  you?  Are  we  all  your 
enemies  and  you  ours  because  —  "  She  threw  out 
a  hand.  "  Oh,  how  I  hate  this  war !  "  she  cried. 
"  How  I  hate  it !  You  don't  know.  You  haven't 
been  here.  Always  some  one  must  be  going  to  fight 
—  to  die.  And  the  others  —  the  ones  who  stay  at 
home  —  they  —  they  break  their  hearts." 

The  Doctor's  step  in  the  hallway  made  her  put  a 

260 


THE       CAPTAIN 

quick  finger  to  her  lips.  Then  her  hand  brushed 
her  eyes,  and  she  called,  "  In  here,  father !  " 

"  Why,  David !  "  the  Doctor  exclaimed.  "  I  never 
thought  of  seeing  you  soon  again.  It  is  a  night 
for  my  dry  Catawba.  How  are  you  ?  "  He  grasped 
both  of  David's  hands  and  took  a  long  look  at  him. 

But  for  all  the  heartiness  of  this  greeting  there 
was  something  changed.  It  was  in  his  bearing,  in 
his  speech,  yet  David  could  not  then  say  what  it  was. 
When  they  were  at  the  table  the  truth  came  upon  him 
suddenly.  Twice  he  caught  the  Doctor's  eyes  fas- 
tened on  his  uniform  with  a  strange  look,  and,  puz- 
zling over  this,  suddenly  recognised  something  in  the 
lapel  of  the  Doctor's  black  coat,  and  understood.  A 
bit  of  ribbon  —  the  colours  of  the  new  Confeder- 
acy. 

The  Doctor  saw  him  stare  at  it.  When  they  were 
alone  a  few  minutes  later,  he  said,  almost  defiantly, 
"  Yes,  David,  —  I  had  no  choice.  I  was  born  and 
raised  in  the  South.  It  was  bound  to  come.  One 
can't  tear  out  one's  heart !  " 

David,  regarding  the  slender,  bowed  figure,  noted 
with  what  new  brilliancy  the  eyes  sparkled  behind 
the  glasses.  "Are  you  —  going?"  he  asked. 

"  Not  now,  not  now.  Not  till  I  must.  Lee 
would  be  alone.  And  I  couldn't  expect  —  to  last 
long." 

"  Anyhow,  there  are  younger  men.    And  you  —  " 

"  I    am   not   too    old   to    be   of    service    to   my 

26l 


THE       CAPTAIN 

South,"  the  Doctor  hastened  to  say.  "  When  the 
time  comes,  and  they  need  me,  I  will  go." 

"But  Lee!" 

The  Doctor's  fingers  played  tremblingly  with  a 
button  of  his  waistcoat.  "  No,  no,"  he  said.  "  You 
must  not  put  it  that  way.  I  can  never  forget  her. 
I  am  an  old  man,  David,  in  some  ways  I  am  very 
old.  Everything  is  behind  me  except  —  her.  Do 
you  think  then  that  I  could  forget  her?  Do  you 
think  I  would  say  yes,  if  there  was  anything  else 
for  me  to  say  ?  " 

"  No,"  David  answered,  after  a  little  silence. 
"  No."  He  covered  the  Doctor's  hand  with  both 
of  his  own. 

In  his  heart,  on  his  lips  it  was  to  speak  of  a 
promise  which  he  had  given  long  ago,  and  to  say 
that  wherever  he  might  be,  whatever  might  happen, 
she  would  always  have  one  to  whom  she  might  turn. 
But  on  the  lapel  of  the  black  coat  was  a  bit  of 
bright  ribbon  to  remind  him  that  between  them  had 
fallen  the  shadow  of  a  figure  with  a  sword.  With 
that  before  him  what  were  the  words  into  which 
he  could  put  his  compassion?  If  it  were  not  for 
himself  and  for  others,  this  anguish  of  an  old  man 
might  never  have  been.  When  he  went  away,  only 
the  long,  close  grasp  of  his  fingers  had  spoken  for 
him. 

But  it  may  be  the  Doctor  remembered  the  promise 
and  understood.  He  went  with  David  to  the  door, 

262 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  watched  him  mount  and  ride  away.  Lee,  a  hand 
on  her  father's  shoulder,  called,  "  Good-bye,  David ! 
Good-bye,  Captain! "  and  the  Doctor  fancied  some- 
thing made  her  press  a  little  closer  to  him.  He  put 
an  arm  about  her.  They  walked  inside,  hand  in 
hand.  There  she  slipped  from  him  quickly  and  to 
the  fire  where  she  stood  looking  down  and  saying 
nothing.  When  she  came  over  to  say  good  night, 
he  held  his  arms  open  for  her,  and  nestled  his  cheek 
against  her  head.  His  fingers  patted  the  curls  with 
little,  gentle  touches,  and  after  a  moment  he  said, 
"  We  two  have  been  together  a  good  many  years, 
dear." 

"  Why,  yes,  father."  She  lifted  her  face  and 
kissed  him.  Her  arms  clung  to  his  neck.  "  Yes, 
yes,  yes,"  she  repeated,  and  each  time  she  spoke 
the  word  more  slowly.  Then  she  put  a  hand  on 
either  side  of  his  face  and  looked  at  him  with  brave 
eyes,  a  smile  upon  her  quivering  lips.  "  But  not 
nearly  so  many  years  as  we  will  be  together,"  she 
told  him. 

"  I  hope  so,  if  you  are  happy.  But  it  might 
be  — "  He  paused,  then  spoke  one  word  — 
"David?"  and  waited. 

"  David,"  she  answered.  "  We  have  known  him 
a  long  time  —  as  long  as  I  remember.  And  I  have 
been  happy,  very  happy,  you  know  that."  Suddenly 
she  drew  her  hands  away  and  slipped  from  the  room. 

263 


XVI 

DONELSON 

AROUND  moon  sailed  above  the  Tennessee 
hills  and  struck  black  shadows  from  the  tree- 
trunks  on  a  ridge.  It  whitened  the  face  of 
a  man  sleeping  below.  It  sifted  through  the  with- 
ered leaves  of  a  bush  near  by  and  crept  beneath  the 
hat-brim  of  another  sleeper.  It  gleamed  on  the 
bayonet  of  a  gun  and  picked  out  a  sword  scabbard 
propped  against  a  log.  Its  beams  travelled  to  the 
south  along  the  crest  of  that  ridge  and  the  next 
and  the  next  until  they  glimmered  in  the  bosom  of 
a  winding  river.  It  travelled  to  the  north  along 
the  ridges  until  it  reached  the  river  again.  Under 
every  tree  and  bush  and  in  .the  open  it  bathed  the 
figures  stretched  upon  the  ground,  and  glinted  on 
musket,  bayonet,  and  sword,  and  burnished  the 
cannon  masked  by  rocky  ledges  and  piles  of  earth. 
Fifteen  thousand  men  lay  on  the  semicircle  of 
these  ridges,  at  their  feet  a  breadth  of  broken  land, 
stripped  of  trees.  On  the  other  side  of  this  middle 
ground  and  opposite  the  lines  rose  a  steep  slope. 

264 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Crowned  it  a  massive  fort,  a  necklace  of  rifle-pits 
and  barriers  of  pointed  tree-trunks  and  branches 
flung  about  its  shoulders.  In  the  fort  and  in  those 
curving  ugly  trenches  of  freshly  turned  clay  lay 
twenty  thousand  more  men.  And  the  moon  looked 
down  on  them,  and  bathed  their  gray  coats  as  softly 
as  it  had  the  men  in  blue.  A  shell  fled  shrieking 
overhead  and  now  and  then  a  word  passed  along  the 
line  of  sleepy  men  who  watched  on  either  side. 
Then  there  was  silence  again. 

Behind  one  of  the  ridges  a  man  sat  in  the  room 
of  a  farmhouse,  and  smoked,  and  studied  a  map. 
His  head  ached  and  he  frowned  at  the  messages 
which  came  to  him  from  the  north  and  the  west. 
A  device  of  gold  braid  shone  on  his  shoulder- 
straps.  At  his  word  on  the  next  day  the  fifteen 
thousand  were  to  rise  and  fall  on  the  twenty  thou- 
sand a  mile  away.  Lightnings  had  played  across 
that  mile  of  broken  ground  the  day  before.  The 
soil  had  been  pressed  by  hurrying  feet,  when  the 
night  came,  —  the  night  of  St.  Valentine's  Day,  and 
the  hospital  shelters  were  full,  and  the  twenty 
thousand  were  in  their  zigzag  trenches  at  the  foot 
of  the  slope  and  on  the  side  and  in  the  fort  at  its 
top.  And  the  fifteen  thousand  stretched  themselves 
on  the  ridges  and  forgot  the  day.  Then  came  the 
frost,  and  the  wounded  wlho  had  not  been  found, 
froze,  and  the  sleepers  huddled  their  knees  and  rolled 
back  to  back,  and  knew  that  it  was  very  cold. 

265 


THE       CAPTAIN 

The  man  in  the  overcoat  folded  the  map  and  put 
it  away.  Then  he  wrote  a  message.  "  Take  it  to 
Commodore  Foote,"  he  said.  "  Report  when  the 
men  are  off  the  boats." 

David  took  the  message  and  rode  to  the  north. 
The  road  was  harrowed  with  ruts,  stiff  as  iron.  A 
gale  swept  across  the  river,  the  spits  of  snow  cut 
like  a  lash.  As  he  crossed  the  highway  to  Fort 
Henry,  which  the  Captain  had  captured  one  week 
before,  Donelson's  grim  shape  loomed  through  the 
darkness.  Fort  Henry  had  been  a  matter  of  an 
hour  and  a  half  and  the  pounding  of  the  heavy 
guns  of  the  fleet.  Donelson  was  a  bigger  task. 
"  We  must  have  it,"  the  Captain  had  said  on  the 
day  Fort  Henry  surrendered.  "  I  don't  know  how 
strong  it  is,  but  I  believe  we  can  take  it.  And  fif- 
teen thousand  men  against  it  now  are  as  good  as 
fifty  thousand  a  month  hence." 

From  St.  Louis  came  an  order.  "  Hold  on  to 
Fort  Henry,  and  intrench.  Picks  and  shovels  are 
on  the  way."  When  this  order  reached  the  Captain 
he  was  in  front  of  Donelson,  and  the  guns  and  mus- 
kets were  speaking  for  them.  David's  lips  twisted 
at  the  recollection.  The  Captain  could  not  drive 
slaves  at  Gravois.  But  this  was  war,  and  he  had 
a  faculty  of  moving  swiftly  in  the  field  and  doing 
things  as  soon  as  he  made  up  his  mind  that  they 
should  be  done. 

Abruptly  the  river  broke  into  view.     It  was  a 

266 


THE       CAPTAIN 

flat  place  and  swarmed  with  men.  They  formed 
from  the  steamers,  muskets  at  a  slope,  and  marched 
off  in  the  darkness,  south.  He  had  passed  many  of 
them  on  the  road.  The  gunboats  lay  out  on  the 
river,  —  six  great  turtles  sheathed  with  iron.  He 
went  aboard  the  headquarters  boat,  and  found  the 
commodore,  —  a  man  with  a  square  head,  and  open 
eyes,  and  strong  nose,  a  fringe  of  whiskers  about 
cheek-bones  and  chin.  A  face  that  might  have  been 
carved  out  of  a  board,  yet  with  a  promise  of  purpose 
in  the  mouth  and  of  thought  in  the  eyes  which  fur- 
nished excuse  for  the  name,  "  Deacon." 

Boone  had  nicknamed  him  that.  He  had  been 
sent  to  him  at  Cairo  and  was  with  him  there  for 
two  days.  "  I  went  to  church  there  with  him," 
Boone  related.  "  The  minister  didn't  arrive.  The 
commodore  waited  awhile,  then  he  stepped  into  the 
pulpit.  And  he  preached  us  a  sermon.  Such  a 
sermon!  I  tell  you  it  came  right  out  of  his  heart, 
and  went  into  ours.  Some  of  them  laugh  at  him, 
but  he's  got  the  right  kind  of  Christianity  for  me. 
We  had  a  blessing  at  every  meal  on  his  boat.  It 
wasn't  long,  but  it  was  straight  out.  He  fights  the 
same  way.  When  the  rebel  Tilghman  came  aboard 
to  give  up  his  sword  at  Fort  Henry,  the  commodore 
told  him  he  did  the  right  thing.  '  But  I  would  not 
have  surrendered  to  you.  I'd  have  gone  to  the 
bottom  first,'  he  said." 

David    delivered    his    orders.      The    commodore 

267 


THE       CAPTAIN 

read  them  and  immediately  inquired  about  the  Cap- 
tain's losses.  "  Too  bad,  too  bad,"  he  said.  "  Poor 
fellows!  We  were  delayed.  Some  of  the  steamers 
were  slow.  This  gale  made  it  harder.  But  we  will 
have  all  ashore  by  morning.  Then  we  will  see  what 
our  guns  can  do." 

That  afternoon  David  saw  what  they  could  do. 
It  was  a  stand-up  fight,  and  shells  burst  in  the 
yellow  trenches  and  shot  bored  the  rebel  earthworks. 
But  Donelson  stood.  A  rain  of  iron  poured  on 
the  metal-backed  turtles  and  drilled  their  bodies 
and  dismounted  their  guns.  They  drifted  down 
the  stream.  At  midnight  the  commodore  sent  a 
message  to  the  Captain,  "  Won't  you  come  aboard 
as  soon  as  you  can  ?  I  am  disabled  and  cannot  come 
to  you." 

The  Captain  came,  spattered  with  mud,  chewing 
a  cigar,  but  with  a  face  unperturbed.  "  You've  had 
some  rough  handling,"  he  said.  "  You've  had  your 
personal  share  of  it,  too,  by  the  looks  of  things. 
We'll  have  to  give  up  the  attack  from  the  river." 

After  a  few  minutes  consultation  he  turned  to 
David.  "  I  will  start  back  at  once." 

A  cold  light  was  creeping  over  the  hills  to  the 
east,  and  the  chill  mists  writhed  in  the  morning 
breeze.  It  was  very  still.  They  rode  slowly.  Sud- 
denly the  Captain  pulled  up  his  horse.  A  sullen 
boom  echoed  from  the  banks  ahead.  Then  came 
another  roar  and  another.  The  horses  plunged  for- 

268 


THE       CAPTAIN 

ward  together  on  the  rough  road.  A  mile  passed, 
and  a  horseman  shot  around  the  bend  ahead.  Boone 
had  ridden  hard.  "  They  are  attacking  us  on  the 
right,"  he  cried.  The  Captain's  yellow  horse  rushed 
past  him  as  he  spoke,  and  Boone  and  David  spurred 
behind  him  for  the  rest  of  the  way.  The  guns  shook 
the  air  more  heavily,  but  as  they  crossed  the  creek 
at  headquarters  the  thunder  of  these  ceased,  and 
only  a  crackling  fire  from  distant  points  marked 
the  places  of  attacks. 

Round  the  curving  front  of  the  Union  forces 
the  Captain  rode,  his  eyes  sweeping  each  position, 
satisfied  with  what  he  saw  until  he  reached  that 
point  on  the  right  where  the  line  drew  close  to  the 
river.  There  was  confusion,  broken  ranks ;  the  signs 
of  doubt  and  fear  and  panic  almost  were  plain  to 
any  one.  A  little  knot  of  men  leaned  on  muskets 
near  where  the  yellow  horse  came  to  a  standstill,  his 
flanks  heaving,  his  head  sunk.  The  Captain  heard 
their  talk :  "  We  are  beaten.  They  have  come 
out  to  fight  as  long  as  there  is  any  light  to  fight  by. 
They've  got  their  knapsacks  on,  and  they're  filled." 

The  Captain  spoke.    "  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

A  soldier  replied,  "  We've  taken  prisoners.  I 
saw  one  of  their  knapsacks.  It  was  full  of  grub." 

"  Bring  me  a  couple." 

He  opened  a  knapsack  and  spilled  its  contents; 
another  and  did  the  same.  "  They  are  filled,"  he 
said.  His  eyes  gleamed.  He  turned  on  the  nearest 

269 


THE       CAPTAIN 

officer  —  it  was  the  commander  at  that  point.  He 
spoke  so  that  all  about  him  could  hear.  "  Men 
who  are  defending  a  fort  don't  carry  three  days' 
rations  on  their  back.  They  are  trying  to  cut  their 
way  out.  Whoever  attacks  now  will  whip.  Be 
ready!" 

The  yellow  horse  swung  round  and  galloped  back 
along  the  front.  Its  rider's  voice  rang  out  as  he 
passed  each  command,  "  We  will  attack  at  once. 
The  enemy  is  trying  to  escape." 

David,  Boone,  staff-officers,  aides,  rode  swiftly  up 
and  down,  and  the  word  was  passed.  The  lines  of 
blue  reformed.  They  advanced.  A  red  gush  of 
fire  tinted  the  mists  which  still  hung  in  places.  An 
answering  flash  leaped  from  the  fort.  The  lightnings 
played,  and  more  fiercely  now,  from  ridge  to  ridge, 
and  level  sheets  of  flame  streamed  from  the  banks  of 
clay  upon  the  slope.  The  thunders  rolled;  a  mil- 
lion pieces  of  tinware  crashed  to  the  ground  at 
once.  A  man  cried  out  and  withered  at  the  knees 
to  flatten  in  a  limp  heap.  Another  stopped  abruptly 
with  his  musket  stiffly  raised,  then  fell  full  length. 
A  gap  opened  in  the  line  of  blue,  and  closed  again. 
A  dozen  men  fled,  and,  knocking  them  aside,  tramp- 
ling them  under  foot,  a  score  of  others  plunged  into 
the  clouds  of  yellow  smoke  which  spread  a  canopy 
above  the  batteries  on  either  side  and  rolled  on 
to  the  lower  ground,  biting  the  tongue,  choking 
the  throat,  blinding  the  men  who  struggled  for- 

270 


THE       CAPTAIN 

ward  and  were  beaten  back.    But  the  blue  line  won 
ground. 

At  last  night  came  and  hung  a  curtain  between, 
and  the  moon's  white  fingers  stole  over  the  faces 
of  men  who  slept.  Some  of  them  stirred  at  the 
cool  touch  and  parted  cracking  lips  and  moaned. 
Some  did  not  move  and  stared  at  the  skies.  In  the 
eyes  of  these  was  eternal  peace. 

That  night  within  Donelson  a  traitor  and  a 
weak  man  showed  their  colours,  and  a  brave  man 
proved  his  bravery  by  mercy.  A  war  council  had 
been  called.  Buckner  was  there,  a  veteran  of  the 
Mexican  war;  Floyd  was  there,  that  Secretary  of 
War  who  had  crippled  his  country,  as  he  thought, 
before  he  told  Buchanan  that  he  would  be  Secretary 
of  War  no  longer;  Pillow  was  there,  who  grew 
an  inch  taller  each  time  he  reflected  on  his  military 
services.  Another  man  was  there,  but  he  was  not 
consulted:  a  tall,  bearded  man,  the  hardest  rider, 
the  best  bulldog  in  the  rebel  army,  as  shrewd  in 
war  as  he  was  ignorant  in  letters,  —  Forrest,  the 
raider. 

Floyd  was  the  senior  in  command.  "  The  fort 
must  be  surrendered,"  he  said.  "  But  I  cannot  do  it. 
I  stand  peculiarly  toward  the  government  at  Wash- 
ington. I  turn  the  command  over  to  General 
Pillow." 

The    delicate   honour    so   conveyed   pricked    the 

271 


THE       CAPTAIN 

bubble  of  Pillow's  conceit.  "  I  must  decline,"  he 
declared.  "  My  relations  with  the  Federal  govern- 
ment would  interfere  with  anything  which  was  to 
be  done.  General  Buckner  should  command." 

Simon  B.  Buckner  was  of  fighting  breed.  He 
did  not  say  much.  Pillow  asked,  "  I  may  go  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Kentuckian.  "  And  you  had 
better  lose  no  time." 

Forrest's  eye  lightened.  "  What  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

"  Surrender.  We  must  do  that  in  the  end.  I 
am  not  willing  to  shed  more  blood  uselessly." 

"I  thought  it  was  to  be  —  fight,"  said  Forrest. 
"  If  it  isn't,  I  wish  to  get  out  with  my  command." 

Buckner  told  him  he  had  permission  to  do  so, 
and  the  cavalryman  strode  from  the  room. 

A  little  before  daylight  a  darkey  was  brought  to 
the  Union  headquarters,  a  deserter  from  the  fort. 
Headquarters  was  a  cabin  on  the  left  of  the  front. 
It  snowed  hard  in  squalls  that  night  and  the  wind 
whistled  through  the  cracks  in  the  shanty  wall. 
The  Captain,  his  back  propped  against  a  post,  had 
pulled  his  hat  down  and  turned  the  collar  of  his 
coat  up;  and  by  these  signs  tried  to  believe  that 
he  was  warm.  His  brain  ached  with  the  noise  and 
strain  of  the  day's  fighting,  his  head,  sunk  between 
his  shoulders,  made  them  think  that  he  was  asleep 
when  they  brought  the  deserter  in.  But  in  an 

272 


THE       CAPTAIN 

instant  he  had  straightened  his  back,  and  kicked 
the  smouldering  log  into  a  blaze.  He  listened  to 
the  story. 

Donelson,  so  the  deserter  said,  was  being  evac- 
uated. General  Floyd  and  General  Pillow  already  had 
escaped  on  steamers  with  ten  thousand  men  (it  was 
three  thousand)  and  gone  down  the  river  (it  was 
up).  General  Forrest  was  starting  to  cut  his  way 
out  along  the  river-bank  to  the  south  —  with  five 
thousand  more  (it  was  a  thousand).  But  the  darkey 
tried  to  tell  the  truth.  The  Captain  looked  at  him 
with  eyes  which  were  danger  lamps.  "  We  will  hang 
you  if  you  are  lying,"  he  said. 

"  Dat's  so,  Gen'ral,"  was  the  answer.  "  Fse  tol' 
de  truf.  Dey's  been  'scapin'  all  night." 

"  Rawlins,"  the  Captain  said,  "  we  will  trust 
him.  Warn  McClernand  to  stop  Forrest  if  he  can. 
Send  word  to  Smith  to  attack  at  dawn,  and  the  rest 
to  assault  at  the  sound  of  the  first  gun." 

So  Boone  posted  hard  for  McClernand  and  the 
right,  and  having  delivered  his  message  rode  on 
along  the  curving  line  of  the  Union  front,  carrying 
the  warning;  and  so  at  last,  in  a  spirit  of  adven- 
ture, came  out  beyond  the  furthest  picket,  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  where  the  river  glimmered  ghostlike 
through  the  falling  snow. 

The  back  water,  black  and  forbidding,  crusted 
with  ice,  spread  inland  to  the  north.  Across  it  he 
could  faintly  see  the  firmer  ground  of  a  slope,  sprin- 

273 


THE       CAPTAIN 

kled  with  trees  and  bushes.  Stifl  and  deserted  it 
all  was,  and  war  seemed  very  far  from  the  spot. 
As  he  surveyed  it  a  dull  continuous  drumming  grew 
on  his  hearing,  and  toward  the  river  he  fancied 
that  a  darker  shadow  crept  over  the  watery  land. 
A  scurry  of  wind  drove  the  snow  down  thickly 
and  blinded  him.  He  strained  his  vision,  a  hand 
over  his  eyes.  And  all  at  once  he  brought  his 
horse's  head  up  with  a  jerk  and  struck  spurs.  This 
should  be  Forrest  escaping  and  nothing  less.  His 
mount  plunged  forward.  It  had  not  made  a  dozen 
strides  when  dark  shapes  suddenly  rose  before  it, 
and  Boone,  unseated  by  a  violent  sideways  leap, 
crashed  to  the  ground. 

He  knew  he  was  a  prisoner  before  he  realised 
how  he  came  to  be  thrown.  Astride  of  his  horse, 
but  with  two  mounted  figures  shrouded  in  gray 
capes  on  either  hand,  a  pistol  drawn  on  him,  in  ten 
minutes  he  was  moving  beside  the  long,  winding 
column  of  cavalry  to  near  its  head,  where  rode  a 
tall  man,  his  booted  legs  braced  forward,  the  closely 
buttoned  overcoat,  belted  at  the  waist  to  hold  a 
brace  of  long  revolvers  and  a  heavy  sabre,  showing 
the  lines  of  his  powerful  figure.  His  waving  black 
hair  under  the  soft  hat  and  his  cropped  chin-beard 
and  moustache  were  frozen  in  stiff  locks,  his  sallow 
face  was  stung  by  the  cold  to  a  brick  red.  He  beat 
his  gauntleted  hands  together,  and  from  beneath 
shaggy  brows  bent  a  look  on  Boone.  His  voice  was 

274 


THE       CAPTAIN 

harsh,  "  Take  him  to  the  rear.  If  he  tries  to  run, 
cut  him  down.  No  shooting."  It  was  Forrest  in 
an  hour  of  danger  and  decision. 

There  was  no  time  and  no  need  for  words.  The 
important  fact  was  he  was  travelling  south  and 
with  a  first-rate  chance  of  seeing  all  that  was  to 
be  seen  of  the  world  for  weeks,  perhaps  for  months, 
through  the  barred  window  of  a  Confederate  prison. 
Curiously  enough  the  thought  which  insisted  on  in- 
teresting him  most  was,  how  Rawlins  would  swear 
at  the idiot  who  called  himself  a  staff- 
officer  and  let  the —  rebels  make  a 

prisoner  of  him! 

Three  miles  behind  Boone  at  that  hour,  on  a 
cracker-box  turned  upside  down,  a  thick-set  man 
shivered  in  the  cold  and  by  the  gray  light  of  dawn 
read  a  letter  which  had  just  been  handed  him,  then 
passed  it  to  the  officer  who  stood  beside  him. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  would  not  consent  to  an  armistice.  They  will 
surrender  anyhow." 

The  Captain  nodded.  And  with  his  knee  for  a 
desk  he  wrote  a  brief  note.  In  it  were  these  words : 
"  No  terms  except  an  unconditional  and  immediate 
surrender  can  be  accepted.  I  propose  to  move  imme- 
diately upon  your  works." 

Two  hours  later  a  good-looking,  stout  man  with 
broad,  low  brow  and  gray  hair,  moustache,  and  whis- 

275 


THE       CAPTAIN 

kers  sat  at  one  side  of  a  breakfast-table  in  Donel- 
son.  He  was  resplendent  in  a  uniform  of  blue  and 
gold.  A  black  hat,  with  curling  plume,  was  care- 
fully laid  on  a  near-by  chair.  This  was  Gen.  S.  B. 
Buckner,  C.  S.  A.  Opposite  to  him  sat  a  short  man 
of  middle  height  with  a  plain  face  in  which  the  only 
noticeable  features  were  the  very  tired  but  deter- 
mined gray-blue  eyes,  and  a  square  jaw  which  even 
the  uneven  beard  of  brown  did  not  hide.  His 
uniform  was  a  soldier's  cape  overcoat,  which  was 
tossed  over  the  back  of  a  chair.  He  wore  a  suit 
of  blue  which  looked  suspiciously  as  if  it  had  been 
slept  in. 

"  If  I  had  been  in  command  in  the  fort  from  the 
first,"  said  the  stout  gentleman,  "  we  would  never 
have  surrendered  like  this." 

"  No,"  answered  the  plain  man.  "  In  that  case, 
I  would  have  had  to  wait.  But  I  would  have  taken 
the  fort  in  the  end  just  the  same." 


276 


XVII 

WHAT  A 
LAME  MAN  DID 

HOW    sagely   the   Doctor    arranged    it    all! 
"  Lee,"  he  said,  "  I  think  you  had  better 
go  down  and  see  Old  Betty.     She  is  com- 
plaining sorely  this  morning,  and  can  hardly  turn 
in  bed.    Perhaps  you  can  comfort  her,  poor  soul." 

Lee  said  she  would  go,  of  course,  at  once.  She 
lowered  the  paper  she  was  reading.  It  gave  the 
first  news  of  Shiloh,  which  set  it  forth  there  as 
a  victory  for  the  South.  There  was  a  list  of  the 
dead  and  wounded  so  far  as  known.  The  little 
double  rank  of  names  left  dreadful  doubts.  The 
paper  was  folded  carefully,  so  that  half  a  minute 
passed  before  she  turned  to  leave  the  room.  In 
that  time  she  noted  two  things.  Her  father  contin- 
ued to  repeat  hurriedly  the  particulars  of  Old  Betty's 
condition,  and  all  the  while  his  back  remained  stead- 
ily turned.  She  understood,  and  her  heart  choked 
her.  For  weeks  she  had  refused  to  acknowledge 
the  inevitable  truth.  Now  it  was  upon  her.  She 
looked  back  for  an  instant  from  the  doorway.  He 

277 


THE       CAPTAIN 

was  bending  over  a  table.  "  Lee,"  he  said,  in  a 
low  voice.  She  did  not  answer.  She  knew  that  he 
wished  to  learn  if  she  had  really  gone;  he  was  afraid 
to  turn  about  until  she  had. 

Down  the  path  to  the  quarter  she  walked  slowly 
through  the  rain.  From  the  direction  of  the  river 
rolled  banks  of  low-lying  clouds,  and  the  earth 
steamed  and  sent  up  its  own  thick  mist.  Suddenly 
out  of  this  obscurity  came  the  gaunt  person  of  'Lias. 
He  was  going  toward  the  house.  "  Has  the  Doctor 
sent  for  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  Told  me  to  come  up  to  the 
house  in  about  five  minutes." 

"  'Lias,"  she  said,  "  he  is  going  to  tell  you  some- 
thing which  I  know  already,  but  you  must  not  let 
him  suspect  that  I  know.  If  he  does,  if  he  seems  to 
ask  you  a  question,  'Lias,  you  must  not  think  of 
me.  Remember  that."  She  passed  him  swiftly,  and 
his  confused  question  was  not  answered. 

Old  Betty  was  sick,  very  sick  and  querulous.  "  De 
misery's  done  sho'  got  Ole  Betty  dis  time,"  she  said, 
over  and  over  again.  "  Dey  ain't  no  use  nussin'  er 
givin'  dem  doctor  cures."  Even  the  presence  of 
"  Mis'  Lee,  "  and  the  touch  of  the  cool  hand  and 
the  cheering  words  of  comfort  which  were  wisely 
never  too  optimistic,  failed  this  time  to  brighten 
the  spark  of  determination  which,  for  five  years 
past,  again  and  again  had  been  sufficient  to  rekindle 
the  lamp  of  a  life  of  four  score  years  and  ten,  each 

278 


THE       CAPTAIN 

time  just  at  the  moment  when  its  possessor  had 
decided  that  she  "  wuz  done  tired  libbin'  anyhow." 
So  desperate  did  the  case  seem  to  be  that  Lee  found 
in  it  a  hope  that,  after  all,  she  had  not  been  sent 
away  from  the  house  for  another  reason  besides. 

But  the  moment  she  crossed  the  threshold  of  the 
library  door  and  saw  him  seated  in  the  big  rocking- 
chair  by  the  fire,  she  knew  better.  He  called  to 
her,  almost  as  if  he  did  not  want  her  to  hear,  and  she 
went  to  him.  On  its  broad  arm  she  leaned  against 
him,  and  her  cheek  upon  his  head.  She  did  not 
mean  he  should  see  her  face.  He  needed  all  her 
help,  and  her  face  could  not  help  him. 

For  a  little  while  neither  of  them  spoke.  But  Lee, 
your  arm!  How  softly  it  pressed  him!  It  came 
near  to  undoing  all  that  those  weeks  of  hard-bought 
silence  by  both  of  you,  had  enabled  him  to  do. 
He  felt  its  warmth  creeping  into  his  heart,  and  a 
voice  called  to  him  so  loudly  that  he  trembled  and 
drew  you  closer  a  moment.  Then  he  spoke.  "  There 
has  been  another  battle  in  Tennessee." 

"  Yes,  a  great  victory  for  the  South."  How 
quickly  she  said  that!  Perhaps  he  had  not  read 
its  full  meaning.  Perhaps  if  he  was  encouraged  — ? 
But  she  never  deceived  herself. 

"  They  say  it  is  a  victory,"  he  answered.  "  But 
the  fighting  is  not  over.  And  Shiloh  is  very  much 
further  south  than  —  Donelson." 

279 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Of  course.  All  the  battles  cannot  be  in  one 
place.  Maybe  the  next  one  will  be  in  Missouri." 

"  No,"  he  said,  and  it  had  never  been  so  hard 
to  acknowledge  this  to  himself.  "  The  war  is  not 
coming  North.  It  is  moving  into  the  South,  and 
we  are  —  losing." 

"  The  South  is  only  beginning  to  fight.  It  will 
do  better  soon.  There  are  many  of  its  men  —  "  She 
stopped  there,  and  she  tried  to  find  quickly  enough 
the  word  which  might  carry  them  both  over  the 
danger-spot.  But  she  could  not,  and  she  knew  the 
chance  was  gone  for  ever  when  he  said,  "  That  is  it, 
dear.  The  South  has  men  who  have  not  fought  for 
it  yet.  It  needs  them  —  all.  I  am  one." 

Her  arm  tightened  convulsively  about  his  neck, 
and  her  lips  pressed  hard  against  his  forehead.  But 
she  did  not  speak.  And  the  arm  which  was  about 
her  shoulders  slipped  down  and  drew  her  over, 
over  so  that  she  lay  against  his  breast,  and  he  looked 
down  into  her  white  face  and  the  gray  misty  eyes 
a  moment,  then  strained  her  to  him.  Perhaps  he 
did  not  say  the  words,  but  both  heard  them.  "  Lee, 
I  must  go." 

Then  there  was  another  minute  when  she  heard 
only  his  heart,  and  he  hugged  her  to  him,  and  twenty 
years  and  more  were  fled  away,  and  the  soft  hair 
against  which  he  laid  his  cheek  seemed  to  be  the 
yellow  curls  of  a  baby,  and  he  was  crooning  over 
and  over  again : 

280 


THE       CAPTAIN 


"  Down  in  the  coal  mines  underneath  the  ground, 
Dusky,  dusky  diamonds,  all  the  year  around." 


Monotonous  words,  words  strung  together  and  little 
more.  But  eyelids  had  always  dropped  reluctantly  at 
their  bidding.  And  "  Hush !  "  she  was  almost  asleep 
now. 

But  she  loosed  herself  gently  and  raised  her  head. 
She  laid  one  hand  on  his  shoulder.  Her  eyes  were 
not  clouded,  only  a  brave  little  quiver  at  her  lips. 
"  When  is  it  to  be,  father?  "  she  asked. 

"  Now.  To-morrow,  if  I  can  go.  I  have  told 
'Lias." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  You  can  trust  him.  He  will  take 
care  of  me  till  you  come  back." 

The  sorrow  of  separation  is  of  two  kinds.  The 
sorrow  of  the  one  who  goes,  and  the  sorrow  of  the 
one  who  is  left ;  and  of  these,  the  sorrow  of  the  one 
who  is  left  is  poignant  with  recollections  of  which 
the  other  knows  nothing.  There  was  the  path  wind- 
ing among  the  orchard  trees  of  the  sunny  slope  be- 
hind the  house,  and  hidden  almost  by  the  grass 
which  bent  from  either  side  and  knotted  across  it. 
More  times  than  she  could  count  did  she  stand  where 
it  began  and  see  standing  under  one  of  the  low- 
crooked  boughs  of  the  apple-trees  the  tall,  slender 
figure  with  stooping  shoulders,  the  black  coat  where 
a  handkerchief  hung  from  the  pocket  of  its  tails. 
She  would  close  her  eyes  and  say,  "  Father,  dear, 

28l 


THE       CAPTAIN 

—  the  handkerchief!  You  have  forgotten  again. 
Some  day  you  will  lose  it."  Did  she  hear  him 
answer?  She  did  as  surely  as  he  turned  his  face, 
smiling  ruefully,  "  Why,  so  I  have,  sweetheart. 
What  would  I  do  without  you?  "  Then  they  linked 
arms  —  yes,  linked  arms,  and  walked  together  back 
to  the  house.  And  there  —  he  was  gone.  Then 
she  would  drop  on  the  floor  beside  his  chair  —  the 
high  rocker  with  its  sagging  bottom  of  rush  — 
and  put  her  head  down  on  the  arm.  And  perhaps  she 
was  with  him  again.  At  last  she  would  look  up 
at  the  picture  above  the  mantel-shelf  with  eyes 
bravely  shining,  and  speak  quite  steadily,  "  I 
wanted  you  to  go.  Yes,  I  did.  But  you  will  come 
back.  I  know  you  will."  After  this  Mammy  Rachel 
often  would  hear  her  singing,  and  would  shuffle 
about  the  kitchen,  grumbling  to  herself.  If  'Lias 
came  in  there  he  was  sure  to  be  set  upon  with  a 
storm  of  reproaches  and  reflections  upon  his  lack  of 
usefulness  in  the  human  scheme,  which  drove  him 
astounded  and  angry  from  the  house. 

Letters  came  back,  of  course.  One  from  Nash- 
ville, another  from  a  little  town  in  Mississippi. 
After  that,  no  letter  for  a  month.  Then  one  written 
near  the  Memphis  and  Charleston  railroad.  He  was 
serving  with  General  Sterling  Price,  and  had  been 
given  a  captain's  commission.  It  was  a  long  letter, 
and  almost  altogether  about  the  country  through 
which  they  were  moving,  and  the  indomitable  spirit 

282 


THE       CAPTAIN 

of  the  men.  Apparently  there  were  no  hardships. 
It  would  seem,  they  marched  on  well-kept  roads,  and 
everywhere  had  plenty  to  eat.  There  was  sunshine, 
too,  every  day,  or,  when  it  rained  it  was  just  enough 
to  cool  the  air  and  keep  away  the  dust.  Lee,  in  the 
scorching  heat  of  that  summer,  read  this  again  and 
again.  It  seemed  to  her  the  bravest  letter  ever  writ- 
ten. 

Other  letters  there  were  which  she  had  come  to 
expect.  They  were  posted  at  all  sorts  of  places, 
and  came  to  hand  often  two  at  a  time,  though  dated 
weeks  apart.  They  glowed  with  the  ardour  of  a 
cause.  She  read  one  of  them  to  Kitty.  It  was  an 
exchange  for  selected  portions  from  a  letter  from 
Oswald.  Kitty,  with  demure  eyes,  remarked,  "  And 
not  a  word  about  himself,  or  you?" 

"  Only  what  I  have  read." 

"  Hm.  Mr.  —  I  mean  Major  Randolph  has 
changed,  hasn't  he?  " 

"  I  don't  see  that  he  has." 

"  Well,  maybe  not,  but  —  "  And  then  Kitty  pur- 
sued, wickedly,  "  I  saw  him  only  a  few  times.  The 
last  time  he  came  in  disguise.  And  there  was  some 
danger  of  his  being  arrested  if  he  had  been  caught. 
But,  of  course,  the  news  he  brought  made  it  quite 
worth  while.  It  was  about  the  fight  at  some  place 
in  Kentucky,  wasn't  it?" 

"  I  do  not  remember  that  he  came  to  bring  special 
news,"  said  Lee,  and  she  dared  her  inquisitor  to  go 

283 


THE       CAPTAIN 

on,  with  an  intent  gaze  which  would  have  discon- 
certed most  persons. 

Kitty  carefully  removed  an  infinitesimal  speck  of 
dust  from  her  gown.  "  Oh !  "  she  responded,  and 
repeated  "  Oh !  "  in  a  tone  a  shade  lower.  Then 
she  remarked  —  it  appeared  to  be  anything  but  apro- 
pos —  "  Where  is  David  now  ?  " 

The  stare  was  intensified.  "  Katherine,"  said  Lee, 
quietly,  "  I  have  not  heard  from  David  for  six 
weeks  —  " 

"  Counting  from  to-day?  " 

"  You  have  probably  noted  that,  in  the  record 
of  my  correspondence  which  you  appear  to  keep. 
If  you  have  not,  and  it  is  essential  you  should  know, 
I  will  fetch  his  letter." 

"  Oh,  don't  bother  yourself.  It  would  probably 
be  hard  to  find.  I  was  interested  only  because  7  have 
not  forgotten  David." 

"  If  you  mean,"  said  Lee,  "  that  I  have,  you  are 
mistaken." 

Kitty  rose.  "  My  dear,  whatever  put  that  into 
your  head?  And  of  course  Major  Randolph  writes 
of  David  constantly.  They  have  interests  in  com- 
mon." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Lee  to  herself,  afterward,  and 
"  Nonsense,"  again.  Philip  might  think  what  he 
pleased.  And  as  for  David  —  She  shut  her  lips 
tight.  She  had  forbidden  herself  to  reflect  on  that. 
There  was  a  point  at  which  pride  said  no.  David 

284 


THE       CAPTAIN 

was  her  friend,  and  he  would  always  be.  But  Philip  ? 
There  were  things  she  wished  for  him.  If  they 
could  be,  she  might  —  He  was  a  gentleman  always, 
gallant,  thoughtful  of  her  pleasure,  and  brave.  That 
journey  through  the  lines!  Yes,  it  had  been  to  see 
her.  He  had  made  no  concealment  of  its  purpose. 
Yet  he  spoke  of  it  lightly.  And,  when  he  found 
that  it  was  only  to  be  disappointed,  how  gallantly 
he  had  borne  himself!  She  had  seen  the  light  die 
in  his  face  and  his  lip  tremble,  but  in  an  instant  he 
had  given  his  head  a  toss,  and  said,  gaily,  "  Now, 
I  was  most  aw-dacious,  wasn't  I?  But  I  couldn't 
just  help  it,  you  see."  And  then,  his  eyes  very  ten- 
der, he  had  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  kissed 
her  fingers  —  "  But  I  will  never  give  you  up, 
dear." 


285 


XVIII 

OLD  FACES 

IN  STRANGE  PLACES 

A  CROW  sat  on  a  fence  and  cocked  its  head 
at  something  beneath  its  perch.  Then  it  slid 
to  the  ground  and  plucked  at  what  lay  there. 
It  tugged  hard  and  tore  it  loose,  and  flapped  away 
with  a  hoarse  croak  of  delight.  From  its  beak 
dangled  a  frayed  strip  of  bleached  blue  cloth,  a 
tarnished  brass  button  at  the  end.  Even  now  at 
September's  clos"e,  if  one  knew  where  to  look  for 
them,  there  were  souvenirs  to  find  of  those  two 
fierce  days  which  wrote  Shiloh's  name  among  the 
great  battles  of  the  world,  and  made  a  graveyard 
of  the  fields  and  woods  and  bluffs  which  lay  within 
the  crook  of  the  broad  Tennessee  and  the  sluggish 
waters  of  Snake  Creek.  Grass  had  grown  and  with- 
ered over  the  graves,  and  leaves  had  come  and  now 
were  sailing  down  upon  them  in  the  autumn  breeze. 
Six  months!  As  many  as  a  thousand  worlds,  it 
might  be,  had  been  blotted  out  in  that  time,  and  no 
one  missed  them.  Shiloh  was  never  forgotten  only 
in  the  cabin  of  the  prairie  and  backwoods,  and  in  the 

286 


THE       CAPTAIN 

home  in  some  city  street  where  a  cap  of  blue  or 
gray,  or  a  sheathed  sword,  perhaps,  was  put  away, 
and  often  some  one  came  to  touch  them  with  caress- 
ing fingers  and  to  talk  to  them  in  the  language  which 
only  the  living  and  their  dead  may  understand. 

David  had  many  a  stirring,  many  a  sad  memory 
of  those  two  days  in  April,  but  so  much  had  hap- 
pened since  Donelson's  fall  that  even  Shiloh  was 
but  one  of  the  train  of  events  which  marked  the 
slow  movement  of  war  southward,  and  in  which 
he  played  his  part. 

First  had  come  Boone's  disappearance,  next,  after 
two  weeks,  word  of  him  brought  by  an  escaped 
prisoner.  They  were  taking  him  further  south. 
Then,  after  another  long  wait,  a  letter  written  very 
fine  on  a  piece  of  whitey-brown  paper,  crumpled  and 
dirty.  It  had  passed  through  many  hands.  He  was 
well,  though  his  quarters  were  narrow.  "  But  I 
have  company,"  he  wrote.  "  Some  of  it  welcome, 
though  we  are  packed  in  like  toy  soldiers  in  a  box. 
At  night  one  of  us  gives  the  word,  and  we  all  roll 
over  together.  It  is  the  only  way.  Some  of  the 
company  is  unwelcome.  '  The  wicked  flea  when  no 
man  pursueth,'  was  never  written  of  this  place.  I 
hold  the  record.  Two  hundred  and  sixty-eight  inno- 
cent lives  I  snuffed  out  in  one  day.  But  it  is  that, 
or  be  eaten  up  alive,  and  I  yet  have  hopes." 

The  Captain  said  he  would  obtain  an  exchange 
at  the  first  opportunity.  But  it  was  not  easy,  and  the 

287 


THE       CAPTAIN 

weeks  rolled  by,  and  but  one  more  letter  came.  David 
wrote  many  times,  but  there  was  no  way  of  knowing 
that  his  letters  ever  reached  Boone. 

Four  days  after  Donelson  the  Captain  was  made 
a  major-general,  and  the  Captain's  wife  with  his 
children  came  to  see  him.  Some  one  congratulated 
her  on  his  new  rank.  "  My  husband,"  she  replied, 
"  has  ability.  He  is  capable  of  filling  any  position 
he  is  given.  He  will  go  much  higher  than  this." 
She  looked  very  proud  and  happy,  and  the  Captain 
was  proud  and  happy,  too.  But,  as  always,  he 
showed  it  only  in  the  quiet  satisfaction  of  his  voice. 
He  swung  his  youngest  child  to  his  shoulders  and 
trotted  up  and  down.  To  David's  vision  an  axe 
lay  in  the  hollow  of  the  other  arm,  and  behind  all 
were  the  oak  and  elm  of  the  Gravois  woods.  Next 
came  that  unfortunate  visit  to  Nashville.  The  Cap- 
tain went  to  confer  with  General  Buell.  He  returned 
from  it  to  hear  he  was  in  disgrace  with  his  chief 
for  leaving  his  command,  arid  inside  of  a  month 
had  proof  of  this  in  an  order  to  remain  where  he 
was  and  place  another  man  in  charge  of  his  expe- 
dition to  Corinth. 

David  saw  something  strange  the  night  that  order 
came,  —  tears  in  the  Captain's  eyes.  He  saw  them 
but  once  again,  and  that  was  when  the  news  arrived 
of  the  gallant  McPherson's  death.  But  there  was 
one  who  remembered  the  Captain's  services.  He 
was  a  man,  they  say,  who  never  forgot.  And  from 

288 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Washington  came  word  to  St.  Louis :  "  The  Presi- 
dent wishes  the  whole  truth."  The  whole  truth 
was  that  the  Captain  was  doing  his  duty  in  his  own 
fashion  —  straightforwardly,  determinedly.  Even 
St.  Louis  could  not  deny  this  when  pressed. 

So  the  Captain  was  restored  to  his  own  again. 
And  in  the  very  nick  of  time.  North  like  a  hawk 
came  the  Confederate  leader,  Albert  Sydney  John- 
ston, and  with  him  Beauregard,  who  promised  his 
men,  that  Saturday  in  April,  that  next  day  he  would 
water  his  horse  in  the  Tennessee  or  in  hell ;  Hardee, 
low-browed  and  heavy,  who  had  arranged  the  rules 
by  which  the  game  of  war  was  supposed  to  be 
played;  and  Bragg,  shambling  and  shaggy,  with  a 
temper  always  on  the  raw  edge;  and  others  beside; 

—  forty  thousand  men  under  them. 

One  Sunday  morning,  fair  and  balmy,  the  Captain 
sat  down  to  breakfast,  and  had  scarcely  broken  a 
cracker  when  he  was  on  his  feet.  The  earth 
trembled. 

"Where  is  it?" 

"  Pittsburg  Landing,  I  believe,"  he  answered. 
"  We  must  go  at  once."  He  hobbled  to  his  horse 

—  the  night  before  they  had  cut  his  boot  from  his 
foot  after  a  bad  fall  —  and  up  the  river  they  went 
on  a  steamer  at  full  speed.    A  cigar  revolved  in  the 
Captain's  mouth  without  pause,  but  his  face  was 
impassive.    He  said  little.    At  one  place  the  steam- 
er's speed  slackened.    A  general  was  there  on  a  boat 

289 


THE       CAPTAIN 

anchored  in  the  stream.  It  was  Lew  Wallace.  He 
saluted.  "  Have  your  men  ready  to  march  at  a 
moment's  order,"  called  the  Captain.  The  steamer 
forged  ahead. 

The  roar  and  quaking  of  the  earth  swelled.  Now 
they  were  at  the  Landing,  and  before  the  gang  plank 
fell,  the  yellow  horse  had  taken  the  gap  of  water 
in  its  stride,  and,  riding  low,  the  Captain  shot  up 
the  rocky  wooded  slope  and  away,  away  to  where 
the  smoke  billowed  in  clouds  and  a  trail  of  bullets 
swept  every  open  space  among  the  trees.  While 
Sherman,  a  bear  at  bay,  swung  round  on  the  spot 
he  claimed  as  his  own,  showing  always  his  teeth, 
and  would  not  budge  though  his  enemies,  circling 
about  him,  charged  him  and  stung  him  on  three 
sides  at  once. 

David  has  a  better  picture  of  that  strange,  grave 
man  than  any  which  photographer  ever  made :  —  a 
tall,  lean  person,  his  back  against  a  tree,  one  hand 
wrapped  in  a  handkerchief,  his  thin  face  and  broad 
forehead  smeared  with  blood  and  powder-stained, 
from  this  grimy  mass  his  eyes  staring  with  intent 
eagerness  into  the  smoke-clouds  which  rose  above 
the  skirmishing-line.  When  the  Captain,  pointing 
to  the  injured  hand,  asked  how  the  wound  was, 
Sherman's  glance  fixed  itself  on  the  bandage  with 
a  strange,  surprised  look.  "  So  it  is.  Horse  shot 
under  me.  But  the  hand  don't  begin  to  hurt  like 
the  damn  bullet  that  struck  my  shoulder  and  never 

290 


THE       CAPTAIN 

left  a  mark.  It's  as  hot  as  hell  here  —  hot  as  hell. 
But  we'll  hold  them." 

So  it  was,  and  so  they  did.  The  Captain  sought 
the  places  where  death  played  at  bowls.  A  shell 
passed  beneath  his  horse.  "  Close  call  for  my  horse's 
legs !  "  he  remarked.  "  Close  call  for  your  legs !  " 
Rawlins  replied.  A  bullet  struck  the  Captain's 
sword  scabbard  and  smacked  it  jingling  against  his 
body.  "  There's  a  good  sword  gone,"  he  observed. 
But  though  the  cannon-shot  ploughed  furrows 
through  the  blue  lines,  and  they  fell  back,  they 
swung  always  on  the  pivot  where  the  bear  had  taken 
his  stand,  and  would  not  retreat. 

That  night  the  Captain  said,  "  I  have  not  yet 
given  up  whipping  them,"  and  lay  down  under  a  tree. 
A  torrent  of  rain  poured  on  him.  At  dawn  they 
lifted  him  into  his  saddle,  his  face  white,  his  clothes 
sodden  and  muddy,  his  leg  hanging  limp,  but  his 
eyes  undaunted.  "  We  will  do  the  attacking  to-day," 
he  said.  "  Every  division  will  move  at  once." 

At  night  the  Confederate  army  was  a  shattered, 
panic-stricken  mob  of  fugitives.  Shiloh  was  won. 

By  whom?  In  the  field  they  knew.  But  the  news 
by  way  of  St.  Louis  had  a  curious  habit  of  becoming 
twisted.  There  were  the  old  stories,  too.  They 
would  not  die.  Eyelids  were  drawn  down  at  the 
report  of  the  Captain's  disabled  leg,  and  they  remem- 
bered the  weakness  which  some  asserted  had  made 
him  leave  the  army  almost  ten  years  before.  The 

291 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Captain  wrote  to  his  father,  "  I  will  go  on  and  do 
my  duty  to  the  very  best  of  my  ability.  One  thing 
I  am  very  well  assured  of  —  I  have  the  confidence 
of  every  man  in  my  command."  So  he  had.  But 
those  over  him?  Down  from  St.  Louis  came  an 
order  stripping  him  of  active  command  in  the  field. 

Sherman  heard  of  it,  and  one  day  in  hot  haste 
rode  to  the  Captain's  headquarters.  Tents  were 
down,  open  boxes  littered  the  ground,  and  these 
were  being  filled. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this?  "  he  asked. 

The  Captain,  seated  on  a  box,  a  leg  crossed,  pulled 
his  cigar  from  his  mouth.  "  Going  to  leave,"  he 
answered,  and  back  went  the  cigar. 

"Whereto?" 

"  Washington.  Have  to  do  it.  I  am  no  use 
here." 

Sherman  stuck  his  chin  out.  In  a  sudden  fury 
he  banged  his  hat  on  the  ground.  "  Good  God ! 
Are  you  crazy?"  he  cried.  "You  can't  do  it. 
You've  got  to  stay  with  us.  We  belong  to  you. 
Don't  you  know  that  much  ?  " 

"  I  know  things  can't  go  on  for  me  the  way 
they  have  been  doing." 

"  All  right.  But  wait.  Why,  damn  it,  man  he  " 
—  jerking  his  thumb  toward  the  north  —  "  he'll  be 
gone  soon.  Then  everything  will  straighten  out. 
Wait!" 

The  Captain  puffed  on  his  cigar.    He  took  it  out 

292 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  surveyed  it  critically,  his  head  on  one  side. 
"  Perhaps  you're  right,"  he  said,  slowly,  after  a 
moment.  "  I  believe  I  will  wait." 

But  the  chief  came  down,  not  to  Washington, 
but  to  where  the  Captain  was,  and  took  command  in 
person.  Around  him  he  gathered  one  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  men.  To  the  southwest,  nineteen 
miles  over  rolling  land,  lay  Corinth.  There  the  Con- 
federates were  concentrating,  sixty  thousand  of 
them.  For  six  weeks  the  men  in  blue  toiled  with 
spade  and  pickaxe.  It  was  a  wonderful  manoeuvre. 
But  it  was  for  fighting  that  the  Captain  had  drilled 
his  army,  and  he  could  not  play  the  snail  with  grace. 
He  did  what  he  was  told  to  do,  and  waited. 


293 


XIX 

UNDER 

THE  APPLE -TREES 

THERE  were  few  things  to  laugh  at  during 
the  six  weeks  which  followed  the  arrival 
of  the  Chief  at  Union  headquarters,  but  these 
the  Captain  enjoyed  to  the  full.  One  night  Rawlins 
loosed  the  torrent  of  his  speech  at  an  orderly  who 
had  made  some  blunder.  The  next  morning  he 
rushed  up,  storming,  to  where  the  Captain  leaned 
against  the  pole  of  his  tent,  his  hat  pushed  back. 
"  What  is  wTong?  "  he  inquired  of  Rawlins. 

"  Wrong!  "  Rawlins's  rage  boiled  over.  "  That 

orderly  has  got  even  for  the  dressing-down  I 

gave  him.  Look !  Look  at  that !  "  He  pointed  'to 
where  his  bay  horse  nosed  a  tree-trunk  near  by. 

The  Captain's  hands  sank  deeper  into  his  trousers 
pockets.  He  regarded  the  horse  with  gravely  studi- 
ous eye.  "  It  appears  to  me  that  something  has  hap- 
pened to  —  his  tail,"  he  observed. 

"  His  tail!  "  roared  Rawlins.  "  Not  a  hair  left! 
Wait  till  I  find  that  orderly."  He  rushed  for  a 
pistol. 

294 


THE       CAPTAIN 

But  the  Captain  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm.  "  Hold 
on,  Rawlins,"  he  said.  "  Think  of  what  a  blacking- 
brush  it  will  make.  And  if  you  want  the  rest  of  it, 
go  hunt  that  old  gray  mule.  It's  the  first  square 
meal  that  mule's  had  in  a  month,  I  guess." 

Rawlins's  indignation  took  a  new  turn,  and  the 
orderly  was  saved.  "  It's  the  last  meal  he'll  ever 
get,"  he  declared.  "  And  it's  damn  easy  for  you 
to  talk  that  way  now.  But  wait.  Some  night  a 
mule  will  eat  the  tail  off  of  that  old  clay-bank  horse 
of  yours.  I  hope  I'll  be  around  when  he  does,  that's 
all." 

Rawlins  had  his  wish.  One  day  the  men  of 
Boone's  old  regiment,  crowding  around  the  Captain 
as  he  rode  into  their  midst,  were  seized  with  a 
sudden  sentimental  fancy  for  personal  souvenirs, 
and  the  yellow  horse  plunged  in  vain.  When  the 
Captain  extricated  himself  from  their  grasping 
hands,  the  "  blacking-brush  "  stuck  up  behind  his 
own  saddle,  and  Rawlins,  circling  around,  repeated, 
"  It  does  look  as  if  something  had  happened  to  —  his 
tail.  But  it  can't  be  so.  It  can't  be  so!  No  mule 
could  ever  make  such  a  clean  job." 

Spring  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  still  the 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  toiled  and  sweated. 
One  day  they  heard  that  New  Orleans  had  been 
taken.  It  looked  to  them  as  if  the  war  must  be 
nearly  over.  But  the  Captain  shook  his  head  when 
David  suggested  as  much.  "  Not  yet,"  he  said. 

295 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  I  wish  it  was.  I  want  to  go  back  and  settle  down. 
I  would  certainly  like  to  be  with  those  youngsters 
of  mine  again.  Home  is  a  pretty  good  place, 
David."  The  bearded  mouth  softened  and  a  wist- 
ful light  crept  into  the  sober  gray  eyes.  Was  it 
only  your  firm  hand  and  iron  will,  Captain,  which 
drew  those  raw-boned  Western  giants  around  you? 
They  served  never  so  well  with  any  other  leader  as 
with  you,  unless  it  was  with  the  bear  of  Shiloh,  and 
he  was  not  unlike  you  in  some  ways. 

For  "  Old  Brains,"  who  was  the  chief  of  them 
all  in  that  spring,  they  had  no  such  trust.  When 
on  that  last  day  the  air  was  rent  with  a  vast  explo- 
sion, and  he  drew  you  up  in  battle  array  and  bravely 
marched  you  into  Cairo  to  find  a  town  empty  of 
troops  and  swept  clean  of  every  article  of  military 
use  except  the  wooden  guns  which  grinned  at  you 
from  parapets,  you  swore  with  good  reason.  Six 
weeks  of  digging  trenches  and  chopping  trees  had 
not  improved  your  tempers.  But  now  this  was  done ; 
and,  after  awhile,  "  Old  Brains  "  took  his  departure 
—  moved  to  Washington  to  become  commander-in- 
chief;  and  those  September  days  came  when  you 
were  to  fight  again  under  your  chosen  leader. 

The  Captain  rode  from  Corinth  to  Memphis.  On 
the  way  David  encountered  an  old  friend.  They 
came  to  a  fine  house  half-hidden  in  its  bower 
of  roses.  A  benevolent,  white-haired  gentleman 
bade  them  dismount  and  enter.  The  shaded  porch 

296 


THE       CAPTAIN 

was  inviting  on  that  hot  day.  The  Captain's  cav- 
alry escort  rode  on,  and  he  and  David  sat  down  on 
the  porch.  An  old  lady  brought  out  wine  and  some 
cakes  of  which  David  had  never  seen  the  like  before. 
Then  some  one  else  stepped  from  the  hallway.  A 
tall  person,  very  beautiful  and  haughty,  and  a  mo- 
ment she  stood  straight  and  stiff,  her  hands  clinched 
by  her  side.  She  saw  David  and  stepped  toward 
him.  "  Mr.  Ford !  "  she  said,  in  her  soft  voice  and 
yet  strangely  formal. 

"  I  thought  it  was  '  David/  "  he  answered. 

She  passed  over  the  inquiry,  and  she  gave  him 
her  hand.     It  slipped  from  his  own  quickly,  and 
she  turned  a  ring  on  her  finger  while  she  asked  him 
about  Gravois. 
'  "  When  did  you  hear  from  Lee  ?  " 

"  A  month  ago." 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  That  is,  what  did  she  say 
that  you  don't  mind  telling?  " 

He  met  her  tantalising  look  squarely,  but  it  might 
have  been  he  did  not  answer  readily  enough.  "  Re- 
member I  am  discreet,  and  a  friend  of  both  parties, 
besides,"  she  prompted. 

"  There  was  nothing  to  keep  secret,"  he  said, 
gravely.  "  It  is  very  lonely  for  her  now,  of  course, 
without  her  father." 

"  The  Doctor  ?    Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  knew  he  had  gone.  He  is  some- 
where in  Mississippi  —  fighting  for  the  South." 

297 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  I  knew  it !  I  knew  it  must  be  that  way  with 
him !  "  she  cried,  softly,  and  her  face  was  glowing. 
"  You  see  how  the  South  calls  her  own !  He  is 
a  gentleman !  We  will  teach  the  North !  "  She 
threw  a  look  over  David's  shoulder,  and  her  lips 
tightened. 

He  smiled,  but  she  did  not  see  that,  and  when  he 
spoke  of  Kitty  she  only  nodded.  Then  it  came 
upon  him  that  she  was  not  listening  to  him.  Behind 
her  the  others  were  talking.  The  old  lady  called, 
"  Oh,  Beatrix !  This  is  General ."  She  men- 
tioned the  Captain's  name. 

Beatrix  turned;  that  is,  her  face  turned.  Chin 
could  not  have  been  more  lofty  nor  eyes  more 
cold,  as  her  head  bent  ever  so  slightly  in  ac- 
knowledgment. Then  she  was  saying  to  David, 
"  And  you  have  not  heard  from  Lee  since,  you  say  ?  " 
He  had  said  nothing  of  the  kind;  he  hardly  heard 
her  question,  so  complete  was  his  astonishment.  A 
moment  more,  and  she  said  good-bye,  and  walked 
swiftly  into  the  house. 

Then  David  thought  that  he  understood.  He 
heard  the  Captain  declare,  "  We  must  go  on."  He 
heard  their  hostess  say,  "  Why,  dinner  is  just  being 
put  upon  the  table."  He  perceived  the  Captain  hesi- 
tate politely  while  he  cast  longing  eyes  upon  the 
cool  depths  of  the  hallway.  And  then  he  heard  their 
host,  not  pressing  the  invitation,  but  speaking  hur- 
riedly, "  Memphis  is  a  long  way  on,  and  these 

298 


THE       CAPTAIN 

gentlemen  of  course  are  anxious  to  reach  there  by 
evening." 

It  was  an  episode  of  surprises.  They  were  on 
the  road  almost  at  once  and  the  Captain  did  not 
speak. 

September  came,  and  headquarters  had  been 
moved  to  Jackson,  where  the  mystery  was  explained. 
On  that  day  in  June  a  rebel  cavalry  force  had  been 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Memphis  road,  and 
their  host  had  known  it.  He  knew,  too,  that  another 
guest  of  his  knew  this;  he  witnessed  her  quick 
retreat.  He  was  a  Union  man,  the  Captain's  escort 
was  miles  away.  A  dinner  lost  to  the  Captain  just 
then  he  reckoned  as  a  diner  saved. 

The  Captain  smiled  at  the  story,  but  David  did 
not.  "  She  would  have  done  it  quickly  enough,"  he 
told  himself.  Anything  to  serve  her  South. 

Her  South  was  fighting  bravely  and  skilfully  in 
that  Tennessee  country.  It  had  the  Captain  on  the 
defensive.  He  knew  his  enemies  were  all  about 
him,  and,  with  a  long  line  in  his  rear  to  protect, 
plotted  and  worked  du-ing  hours  of  day  and  night  to 
hold  his  own  and  catch  them  napping. 

Then  one  evening  he  called  in  David  where  he  sat 
by  a  table,  a  map  spread  before  him  marked  with 
rulings  and  dots.  He  held  out  a  letter.  It  bore 
the  name  of  Rosecrans.  Once  the  Captain  had  said : 
"  There  are  two  men  in  this  army  which  I  would 
like  to  serve  under,  if  I  did  not  command,  —  Sher- 

299 


THE       CAPTAIN 

man  and  '  Rosy.' '  It  was  always  "  Rosy  "  with 
the  Captain  when  he  did  not  speak  officially.  This 
letter  was  to  go  to  Corinth  at  once.  Rosecrans  was 
in  danger  from  the  east,  the  Captain  judged. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  of  October  David 
delivered  the  letter,  and  while  waiting  for  a  reply 
strolled  about  the  town.  It  wore  almost  the  look 
of  a  place  besieged.  The  rebels  had  burned  houses 
and  blown  up  buildings  and  the  railroad  track  before 
they  made  that  retreat  from  it  which  confounded 
a  Union  chief.  Rosecrans  and  his  men  now  camped 
in  it  and  about  it,  and  had  reared  embankments  and 
dug  trenches.  Cannon  bristled  from  these.  Soldiers 
were  in  the  streets;  on  the  porches  of  the  houses 
were  officers. 

But  David  found  one  street  on  which  it  seemed 
that  war's  hand  had  not  been  laid.  It  was  shaded, 
and  there  were  gardens  behind  the  fences,  and  fruit- 
trees  and  bushes  through  which  comfortable  houses 
blinked  a  peaceful  eye  from  a  lighted  window.  Near 
the  curb  opposite  one  of  these  a  stone  slab  made 
a  seat.  David  with  his  back  against  a  tree  sat 
down  to  smoke  and  enjoy  the  quiet  of  the  calm 
evening,  with  the  stars  twinkling  through  the  foliage 
and  a  gentle  breeze  from  somewhere  bathing  his 
face.  While  he  smoked  he  regarded  the  square  of 
yellow  light  in  the  window  across  the  street.  He 
had  a  wish  that  he  might  go  over  and  be  one  of 
that  household  for  awhile,  and  forget  that  he  wore 

300 


THE       CAPTAIN 

a  uniform.  Surely  one  could  forget  this  under  the 
shaded  lamp  which  shed  a  soft  glow  on  the  table 
by  the  window-sill. 

Then  some  one  came  and  sat  herself  beside  the 
table  and  began  to  write.  David  stared,  and  at  first 
was  sure  that  his  fancy  had  filled  in  the  frame  of 
the  picture  for  him.  For  the  fine  shoulders  which 
rose  from  the  soft  folds  of  muslin,  and  the  round 
white  throat,  and  the  coils  of  ruddy  hair  which 
the  lamplight  burnished  so  that  even  a  tiny  loose 
lock  glistened  against  the  bent  face  over  which  it 
curled  —  these  he  knew.  He  closed  his  eyes  and 
memory  summoned  for  him  an  evening  back  in 
Gravois.  The  fiddles  were  squeaking,  slippered 
feet  passed  and  repassed  as  he  sat  with  her  in  a 
sheltered  corner.  She  laughed  at  him  for  some 
of  his  opinions  and  chided  him  for  others.  Twice 
she  made  him  hot  with  what  she  said  of  the  man 
he  liked  above  all  others.  Where  was  that  man 
now  ?  Did  she  know  that  he  lay  in  prison  —  one  of 
the  prisons  of  her  South  ?  If  she  did  —  !  David 
believed  less  in  her  overwhelming  scorn  for  Boone 
than  he  once  had  done.  To  be  sure  he  was  an  enemy 
of  the  South;  her  enemy  for  that  reason,  she  had 
made  it  plain.  But  — 

The  figure  at  the  window  rose.  The  sleeve  fell 
away  from  her  arm  as  she  held  an  envelope  with 
wet  ink  over  the  lamp.  Was  she  writing  to  Boone? 
David  smiled  as  he  realised  how  easily  his  imagina- 

301 


THE       CAPTAIN 

tion  wrought  for  him.  Her  figure  passed  from  the 
field  of  his  vision  and  he  was  of  half  a  mind  to  go 
over  and  ask  for  her  when  he  saw  a  shimmer  among 
the  trees  and  knew  she  had  come  out  into  the  garden. 
She  was  speaking  to  some  one  whom  he  could  not 
see. 

A  moment  later  another  figure  came  out  of  the 
shade,  a  mulatto  boy.  On  the  steps  of  the  path 
he  sat  down.  David  saw  him  fumbling  with  one 
of  his  shoes.  Then  the  boy  got  up  and  came  into 
the  street.  He  passed  by  in  lazy,  aimless  fashion, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  humming :  — 

"  Wake  up,  snakes,  pelicans,  and  Sesh'ners ! 
Don't  y'  hear  'um  comin'  — 

Comin'  on  de  run? 
Wake  up,  I  tell  y'!    Git  up,  Jefferson! 
Bobolishion's  comin'  — 
Bob-o-lish-i-on ! " 

The  refrain  died  away  in  the  distance.  David 
looked  across  into  the  garden  again.  There  was  no 
shimmer  of  white  among  the  trees  now.  And  in 
the  room  above  an  arm  was  reached  to  the  lamp  and 
turned  its  light  low.  Abruptly  he  arose  and  walked 
away. 

An  hour  later  when  he  left  Rosecrans  he  knew 
that  some  one  in  the  town  had  written  that  the 
Union  lines  were  weakest  on  the  north  side.  The 
letter  had  been  intercepted  half  an  hour  ago,  and 

302 


THE       CAPTAIN 

read  (David  did  not  know  that  it  also  had  been  sent 
on  to  its  destination),  and  the  bearer  was  under 
arrest.  The  bearer  was  a  mulatto  boy. 

David  found  himself  in  that  quiet  street  where  the 
houses  stood  among  the  trees,  and  sat  down  on 
the  stone  block  again  and  even  then  did  not  know 
why  he  had  come.  For  what  was  he  to  do?  He 
could  tell  her,  accuse  her.  He  could  hear  her  retort. 
Or  frighten  her  with  the  threat  of  what  was  to 
happen?  She  was  not  a  good  coward.  Moreover, 
there  was  the  greater  question,  —  had  he  the  right 
to  tell  at  all? 

It  was  Beatrix  herself  who  resolved  these  ques- 
tions for  him.  She  stood  in  the  well  of  the  garden 
walk  where  it  entered  on  the  pavement  —  and  he 
saw  her  only  when  she  spoke  to  him.  "  David !  " 
she  called,  softly,  and  "  David  "  again. 

He  walked  over  to  her.  "  You  came  back,"  she 
said.  "Why  is  that?" 

"  Yes,  back  again,"  she  went  on,  answering  the 
astonishment  which  spread  itself  plainly  on  his 
countenance.  "  I  saw  you  the  time  before,  but  not 
until  you  got  up  suddenly.  I  hoped  you  were  com- 
ing to  speak  to  me."  Her  soft  drawl  was  caressing, 
and  danger  lay  in  the  dark  depths  of  her  eyes. 
"  We  are  not  strangers,  are  we,  David  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  I  wouldn't  have  come  back  if 
we  were." 

"  But  you  have  come  back.     Why  ?     A  message 

303 


THE       CAPTAIN 

forme?  Come  in.  This  is  my  aunt's  home.  I  have 
been  staying  with  her  since  —  since  that  day  we 
met  on  the  Memphis  road.  I  will  try  to  make  you 
forget  how  rude  I  was  then  —  if  you  will  come  in." 

"  I  cannot  come  in,"  David  said. 

"  But  your  message.    What  is  it?  " 

He  did  not  reply.  "  Now  it  must  be  from  Lee," 
she  said,  almost  to  herself.  "  It  is  too  bad  you 
did  not  give  it  to  me  when  you  were  here  before.  I 
was  writing  then." 

"  But  not  to  her,"  he  said,  swiftly.  "  I  know 
it  was  not  to  her,  and  you  sent  the  letter  off  by 
a  messenger." 

"  Why,  so  I  did."  The  drawl  was  as  languid  as 
ever,  but  the  eyelids  dropped  an  instant,  and  it  was 
not  confusion  they  hid.  Then  she  went  on.  "  Now 
I  wonder  if  he  forgot  all  about  the  letter.  Aunt 
Rachel's  boys  are  so  careless !  " 

David  struggled  with  himself.  Without  looking 
at  him,  she  added,  lightly,  "  Well,  it  don't  matter 
much.  He'll  remember  about  it  to-morrow,  I 
reckon." 

Suddenly  David  spoke.  "  The  boy  did  not  forget 
about  the  letter.  But  he  did  not  deliver  it.  He  was 
stopped." 

"  Stopped  ? "  Her  brows  were  raised,  then 
passionately,  "  Who  stopped  him  ?  A  Yankee,  of 
course.  Even  a  lady's  letters  - 

"  A  lady's  letters  when  they  are  sent  through  the 

304 


THE       CAPTAIN 

lines  secretly  must  often  be  stopped,"  he  returned. 
"Beatrix  —  " 

"  Oh,  go  on!  "  she  cried.  "  You  want  to  know 
to  whom  it  was  to  go,  and  the  boy  would  not  tell 
you!  Well,  to  Philip.  But  what  right  have  you 
to  be  informed  about  my  correspondence?  What 
right,  I  say?"  She  stopped.  Then  she  held  out 
her  hand.  "  And  now  that  you  know  so  much," 
she  finished,  coldly,  "  you  will  give  me  the  letter, 
please." 

"  I  have  not  got  it,"  he  answered,  and  then  he 
knew  he  must  tell  her  the  rest,  and  did. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said,  and  looked  him  defiantly  in 
the  face. 

"  But  don't  you  see  ?  "  he  said,  slowly.  "  It 
doesn't  end  here." 

"Then  where?" 

"  With  yourself.  They  will  trace  the  letter  to 
you." 

She  laughed,  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  sleeve. 
•  "  David,"  she  asked,  "  did  you  think  I  would  run?  " 

"  No,  but  you  cannot  stay  here." 

"  Oh,  but  I  really  must,"  she  mocked.  "  To  re- 
ceive Philip  when  he  drives  out  you  Yankees." 

"  But  the  Yankees  won't  be  driven  out.  They 
will  stay  here.  Besides  they  will  soon  be  fighting 
here  —  about  the  town  —  in  it,  perhaps.  It  will  be 
no  place  for  a  woman." 

Suddenly  she  raised  her  head  and  her  eyes  were 

305 


THE       CAPTAI.  N 

brilliant.  "  David,"  she  said,  "  the  war  is  not  over. 
You  do  not  know  the  women  of  the  South  yet,  it 
seems.  But  you  will.  Their  men  do  the  fighting, 
but  the  women  have  their  part.  And  you  will  never 
find  that  they  are  to  be  frightened  from  it.  No,  not 
in  its  worst  day." 

A  time  came  when  her  words  repeated  themselves 
to  him.  Now  they  awoke  in  him  a  sudden  great 
admiration.  Here  again  was  the  South,  glowing, 
proud,  dauntless  —  prophesying  unconsciously  its 
own  brave  end. 

There  was  no  more  for  him  to  say.  He  pressed 
her  hand.  When  he  reached  the  corner  of  the  street 
she  was  still  standing  there.  She  waved  an  arm  to 
him  as  he  raised  his  cap. 

At  daylight  the  next  day  Van  Dorn  attacked, 
and  David  all  at  once  found  himself  in  the  street 
in  front  of  Rosecrans's  headquarters  fighting,  not  to 
keep  the  rebels  from  Corinth,  but  to  drive  them  out 
of  it.  "  Pop  "  Price's  storming  column  had  pierced 
the  Union  line  and,  ploughed  through  and  through 
by  the  converging  fire  of  two  great  Union  forts,  yet 
swept  on  into  the  very  heart  of  the  town.  Ragged 
fellows  most  of  them,  but  splendid  in  their  courage 
and  led  by  men  as  fearless  as  themselves.  On  David 
at  the  head  of  a  little  knot  of  fugitives  whom  he  was 
trying  to  rally,  this  yelling,  desperate,  broken  line 
bore  down. 

But   he   saw   only   one  figure.     And   it   rushed 

306 


THE       CAPTAIN 

directly  at  him  —  a  tall,  slender  figure,  the  shoulders 
a  little  stooped,  a  thin  white  face  with  high  forehead 
and  curious  straining  eyes  fixed  on  his  own.  Then 
a  point  like  ice  pressed  against  his  leg,  he  was  lifted 
from  his  feet.  He  seemed  to  be  floating  forward  — 
yet  the  figure  now  moved  away  from  him  fast,  and 
he  could  not  see  what  he  knew  should  be  in  the 
buttonhole  there,  —  a  piece  of  bright  coloured  rib- 
bon. There  was  a  flash  of  violet  light  before  his 
eyes.  Everything  was  gone. 


307 


XX 

THE  WEDGE 

IN  the  last  week  of  November  a  compact  body 
of  cavalry  entered  the  little  town  of  Corinth 
from  the  southeast.  Horses  and  uniforms  alike 
wore  the  marks  of  hard  travel,  the  faces  of  the 
riders  were  tanned  and  weather-beaten.  For  four 
weeks  almost  continually  they  had  been  in  the  saddle 
while  they  swung  a  great  circle  which  had  this  same 
town  for  its  starting-point.  Near  their  head  a  young 
officer  reined  up  sharply  opposite  one  of  the  biggest 
houses,  and  slid  to  the  ground  to  grip  the  hand  of 
a  man  in  uniform  who  had  hailed  him  and  ran  down 
to  the  street.  While  the  cavalry  passed,  these  two 
walked  up  on  to  the  porch  together,  and  there  David 
dropped  into  a  seat  and  pulled  off  his  gloves,  striking 
them  against  his  knees  as  he  stretched  his  legs.  He 
gave  a  sigh  of  satisfaction.  "Dead  beat!  "  remarked 
his  companion,  laconically. 

"  Not  quite.     But  not  far  from  it,  either.     And 
mighty  glad  to  be  sitting  on  something  —  flat.    Mud 

308 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  dust,  some  miles  of  railroad  track  torn  up,  some 
cotton  burned  or  badly  smoked,  and  —  that's  all." 

"  Leg  trouble  you  ?  " 

By  way  of  answer  that  unoffending  member  re- 
ceived a  slap.  "  I  wouldn't  remember  Shiloh  long 
if  the  bullet  I  got  there  was  all  I  had  to  remember 
it  by,"  David  added.  His  voice  dropped  on  the  last 
word,  and  he  pulled  the  gloves  through  his  hands. 
He  roused  himself  with  a  jerk  of  the  head.  "  The 
dickens!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Here  I've  seen  you  but 
once  since  you  were  exchanged,  and  I'm  talking 
about  myself.  How  does  it  feel  to  be  your  own 
man  again  ?  " 

Boone  laughed.  "  I've  tried  it  for  six  weeks  now, 
and,  on  the  whole,  I  like  the  sensation.  For  one 
thing,  the  table  is  better  here  than  in  my  old  board- 
ing-place. Again,  I  can  stretch  my  arms  without 
striking  a  wall  or  stirring  up  strife  among  my 
fellow  boarders.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  to-night. 
By  the  way,  you'll  have  to  pull  out  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. Orders  for  you  to  report  at  Holly  Springs." 

David  nodded.    "  The  Captain?    How  is  he?  " 

"  Same  as  ever.  Takes  everything,  good  and  bad, 
as  if  he  knew  it  was  going  to  be  that  way  long  before. 
You  know 'Black  Julia'?" 

"  That  old  slave  of  his  wife's?  " 

;*  Yes.  You  remember  he  said  he  didn't  like  to 
hold  her,  but  would  not  sell  her?  Well,  she  relieved 
him  of  the  strain  of  worry.  Ran  away.  Never  left 

309 


THE       CAPTAIN 

a  good-bye.  It  was  one  of  the  few  times  I  have  heard 
the  Captain  laugh.  He  declares  he  has  a  case  against 
Mr.  Lincoln  —  that  it  was  the  President's  '  gradual 
emancipation  '  scheme  which  gave  Julia  the  hint. 
Secretly,  he'd  be  glad,  I  think,  if  his  two  other  '  faith- 
ful servitors  '  would  imitate  her  example." 

"  He  never  did  understand  how  to  handle  them." 

"  At  any  rate,  he  isn't  ashamed  of  the  failing. 
And  he's  been  making  the  best  of  having  to  sit  still. 
We've  been  having  considerable  good  music  round 
headquarters  lately,  and  he  enjoys  it.  They  were 
singing  'The  Star  Spangled  Banner'  the  other  night. 
I  could  hear  him  humming  the  tune  with  them. 
When  he  knew  I  was  listening,  he  quit.  It  was 
good  to  see  him  taking  part  in  it.  He  don't  give 
much  time  to  that  sort  of  thing  as  a  rule,  and 
he's  got  a  big  puzzle  to  solve  now." 

"  He  has  had  something  of  that  kind  from  the 
start." 

"  Yes,  but  this  is  the  biggest  of  all.  It  is  the 
wedge  which  will  split  the  rebellion.  And  the  Mis- 
sissippi is  to  be  the  line  of  cleavage  from  St.  Louis 
to  New  Orleans.  It  is  a  long  way  to  look  ahead, 
perhaps;  but  that  is  the  end  of  this  movement 
south." 

"  The  Captain  was  never  near-sighted,"  remarked 
David. 

"  No,  and  he  has  untied  some  tangled  knots 
already,  but  this  Vicksburg  picnic  is  the  toughest  one 

310 


THE       CAPTAIN 

yet.  All  the  children  want  to  go,  of  course.  And 
of  course  they  can't.  There's  some  two  hundred 
miles  of  country  in  the  rear  along  which  the  lemon- 
ade and  cake  and  ice-cream  must  come,  and  there 
are  a  lot  of  small  outsiders  who  don't  belong  to  the 
same  Sunday  school,  and  who  won't  keep  their  hands 
off  the  refreshments.  So  —  " 

"  Cut  it  short.  I  know  that.  He  wants  Vicks- 
burg,  he  means  to  have  it,  and  he's  got  a  long  line 
to  defend  —  from  the  children  of  the  other  school. 
What's  he  going  to  do?" 

Boone  leisurely  crossed  a  knee.  "  If  you  will  have 
patience,  my  son,  I  will  try  to  tell  you  a  true  story. 
This  celebrated  picnic,  I  was  about  to  remark,  will 
probably  be  in  charge  of  Deacon  Sherman." 

David  laughed. 

"A  fact, — our  dear,  mild,  sweet-tempered  Brother 
Sherman,  '  Old  Sugar  Coated.'  .  It  is  the  talk,  merely 
the  talk,  mind  you,  that  Brother  Sherman  is  to  be 
sent  ahead  so  as  to  alleviate  the  itching  which  they 
seem  to  suffer  from  at  Washington  to  send  Brother 
McClernand  down  there  with  a  separate  command. 
That  would  not  suit  the  Captain." 

David  muttered,  savagely,  "  Why  can't  they  let 
him  alone?  " 

"  I  think  they  will  —  this  time.  Meanwhile  he 
is  collecting  all  the  forage  and  supplies  he  can  lay 
hands  on,  organising  his  men,  and  keeping  a  watch- 
ful eye  on  the  antics  of  the  gentlemen  in  gray  who 


THE       CAPTAIN 

do  not  seem  deeply  impressed  with  the  fact  that 
they  are  being  whipped  and  must  stay  south  of 
our  headquarters.  Also,  I  forgot  to  say,  he  is  giving 
a  good  deal  of  attention  to  the  project  for  utilising 
the  African  surplus." 

David's  brows  drew  together. 

"  Yes.  As  far  as  eye  can  see,  the  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen of  colour  are  picking  cotton.  They  are  being 
paid  for  it,  too  —  twelve  cents  a  pound.  Which 
same  they  haven't  yet  quite  got  used  to.  And  the 
result?  The  Government  is  realising  a  very  fair 
sum  from  the  sale  of  the  cotton,  and  the  specula- 
tors —  "  He  broke  off  sharply,  and  finished,  "  And 
there  you  have  all  my  news." 

"  Not  quite  all.  You  were  going  to  tell  me  some- 
thing else." 

"  Was  I  ?  "  with  vacant  face.    But  David  insisted. 

"  Oh,  well,  then,  I  was.  I  suppose  you  ought  to 
know  it  anyhow.  Your  uncle  is  down  here." 

"  He  is.  Now  what  is  that  for?  "  Apprehension 
was  so  plainly  in  the  remark  that  Boone  hastened 
to  add,  "  You  don't  need  to  worry.  It  isn't  anything 
alarming.  It's  just  —  I  dislike  to  say  it  —  just  a 
sharp,  low  trick  your  uncle  is  putting. up.  The  Cap- 
tain drove  out  all  the  cotton  speculators  by  a  general 
order.  He  had  to.  A  few  days  later  a  telegram 
came.  I  saw  it.  It  asked  for  passes  to  the  front 
for  Mr.  Mayhew  and  '  a  friend.'  They  got  the 

312 


THE       CAPTAIN 

passes,  and  the  '  friend  '  is  deep  in  the  cotton-trading, 
I'd  swear." 

"  Then  tell  the  Captain  so,  if  you  haven't  already. 
I  will,  if  you  don't.  My  uncle  has  no  right  to  do 
this." 

"  I  have  not  told  him,  and  you  won't  tell  him, 
either,  when  I  say  that  I  couldn't  prove  there  is 
anything  wrong.  I  only  feel  it  in  my  bones.  As 
for  Mr.  Mayhew  —  butter  wouldn't  melt  in  his 
mouth." 

There  was  a  grunt  of  disgust.  Boone  went  on, 
"  He  is  here  ostensibly  on  private  business,  and  he 
has  shown  a  lot  of  good  sense  in  keeping  out  of  the 
military  way.  He's  brought  in  rather  valuable  in- 
formation, too,  once  or  twice.  In  consequence,  he 
has  no  trouble  when  he  wants  to  see  the  Captain. 
He's  been  inquiring  about  you." 

"  Yes,"  assented  David,  drily.  "  That's  very 
strange."  Then,  looking  up,  "  There's  no  use  of 
pretending  that  affection  is  lost  between  my  uncle 
and  myself.  We  don't  agree  on  many  things.  Let's 
drop  the  subject.  You  haven't  heard  of  any  letters 
for  me?" 

"  Letters  ?  "  For  an  instant  Boone  enjoyed  the 
confusion  which  the  word  brought  into  the  other's 
face,  then  he  said,  quickly,  "  No,  I  haven't.  I've 
kept  a  lookout,  as  you  asked,  and  made  inquiries. 
But  —  Well,  the  fact  is,  I  believe  all  the  letters  — 
her  letters,  I  mean  —  must  have  gone  astray  on  the 

313 


THE       CAPTAIN 

way  down.  You  know  how  mixed  up  things  are. 
And  what  with  headquarters  being  moved  and  all 
that,  it's  no  wonder.  She  wrote,  of  course.  But  I 
couldn't  get  on  the  track  of  a  single  letter." 

There  was  no  answer.  David  was  pulling  at  his 
gloves  and  studying  his  hands.  After  a  minute 
he  said,  quietly,  "  All  right.  It's  the  way  you  say, 
no  doubt.  I  must  go  over  to  report  now.  I'll  see 
you  after  awhile." 

Two  days  later  David  landed  at  headquarters  at 
Holly  Springs,  to  find  the  Captain  gone  and  an 
order  awaiting  him  to  report  in  person  at  once  at 
Cairo.  It  was  dark  when  he  reached  the  familiar 
little  river  town,  and  a  word  of  inquiry  sent  him 
quickly  down  the  stilted  board  walk  to  the  water- 
side. Out  in  the  river  Admiral  Porter's  flagship  was 
a  maze  of  twinkling  lights.  A  banquet  was  to  be 
held  that  evening.  David  made  his  way  to  her,  and 
at  the  gangway  was  halted  by  the  person  of  a  solidly 
built  man  in  creased  and  soiled  citizen's  clothing. 
An  orderly  had  stopped  this  visitor,  and  was  telling 
him  that  he  could  not  come  aboard. 

David,  in  uniform  and  with  his  order,  was  impa- 
tiently passing,  when  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoul- 
der, and  a  face,  very  tired  but  filled  with  grim 
humour,  looked  into  his  own.  "  Captain,"  said  a 
voice,  which  made  him  start  and  come  to  a  quick 
salute,  "  can't  you  persuade  them  that  I  am  not 
a  dangerous  person  ?  " 


THE       CAPTAIN 

David  grasped  the  hand  that  slipped  down  his 
arm,  and  the  orderly  stepped  aside.  They  went 
into  the  dining-cabin,  the  Captain  still  laughing  over 
his  reception. 

The  long  cabin  was  a  blaze  of  light,  and  uniforms 
were  all  around  the  table. 

At  its  head  sat  a  wiry,  muscular  man  in  uniform. 
He  was  listening  to  a  story  which  some  one  was 
telling,  his  large  eyes  twinkling  with  appreciation. 
He  did  not  see  the  newcomers  at  first,  then  catching 
sight  of  the  Captain,  remained  a  moment  seated,  pull- 
ing at  his  beard.  The  Captain  spoke,  and  the  ad- 
miral sprang  up  and  grasped  his  hand.  ''  I  did  not 
know  you  at  first.  Those  clothes,  you  see,"  he 
explained.  "  But  sit  down.  We'll  have  a  chair  at 
once.  We're  just  going  to  have  a  good  time." 

But  the  Captain  declined  the  invitation.  He  would 
not  sit  down.  The  admiral  walked  out  of  the  room 
with  him.  Then  the  Captain  asked,  quickly,  "  You 
wrote  that  the  McClernand  matter  has  come  to  a 
head?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Porter.  "  I  saw  the  President  in 
Washington.  In  effect  he  told  me  that  he  had  a 
better  general  now  than  either  you  or  Sherman,  and 
that  he  had  given  him  power  to  raise  a  big  army 
and  go  down  the  river  to  Vicksburg  at  once." 

The  Captain  asked  a  question  in  short,  precise 
words,  and  got  as  brief  an  answer.  He  asked 
another.  In  ten  minutes  he  had  drawn  from  the 

315 


THE       CAPTAIN 

admiral  all  that  he  knew  on  the  subject.  He  bit  off 
the  end  of  a  cigar,  looked  at  it  a  moment,  and  stuck 
it  into  his  mouth.  Abruptly  he  demanded,  "  How 
soon  can  you  move  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,  if  necessary." 

"  All  right.  I  will  see  that  thirty  thousand  men 
on  transports  are  ready  to  go  down  to  Vicksburg 
when  you  reach  Memphis.  I  will  move  south 
myself  at  once.  Joe  Johnston  is  at  Vicksburg  with 
forty  thousand  men.  That  will  bring  him  up  north. 
You  and  Sherman  must  get  into  Vicksburg  while 
he  is  fighting  me.  That's  all." 

Porter  caught  the  Captain's  arm.  "  Come  in  now 
and  join  us." 

"  I  can't  do  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  am  going  back  to  headquarters." 

"  At  any  rate,  have  something  to  eat  first." 

"  No.  I  will  start  at  once.  Good-bye."  He 
shook  the  admiral's  hand  again,  passed  through 
the  lighted  room,  with  a  nod,  and  David  joined  him. 
An  hour  later  they  were  well  on  their  way  to  Holly 
Springs,  and  the  fortunes  of  an  army  of  one  hundred 
thousand  men  had  been  embarked,  and  the  first  move 
made  in  one  of  the  greatest  sieges  of  history. 

The  work  which  was  done  during  the  four  weeks 
which  saw  November  of  that  year  end  and  half  of 
December's  days  go  by,  made  many  a  staff-officer 
and  commander  about  headquarters  wonder  why 

316 


THE       CAPTAIN 

ever  he  had  been  born.  The  Captain  stood  above 
them,  and  there  were  no  excuses  taken,  while  he 
worked  himself  with  an  energy  that  seemed  never  to 
tire.  The  enemy  hovered  on  his  flanks  and  pes- 
tered him,  and  behind  him  that  long  line  along  which 
came  the  lemonade  and  cake  and  ice-cream  of  Boone's 
Sunday-school  picnic  drew  them  like  flies.  Upon 
keeping  this  line  intact,  it  seemed  to  the  Captain  then 
that  the  success  of  his  expedition  depended,  and  to 
keep  in  touch  with  the  points  along  it  was  no  easy 
task.  There  was  the  telegraph,  of  course,  but  there 
were  reasons  to  doubt  the  integrity  of  its  dots  and 
dashes,  as  he  well  knew.  Gentlemen  on  horseback 
there  were,  wearing  gray  or  butternut,  who  fre- 
quently tapped  these  wires  and,  without  a  by-your- 
leave,  enjoyed  the  secrets  of  the  conversations  be- 
tween the  Captain  and  his  officers,  and  were  so  shy 
withal  that  they  never  sent  a  word  along  to 
make  their  presence  known.  Also  accidents  hap- 
pened which  made  the  Captain  and  others  say  un- 
complimentary things  about  his  writing-master. 

One  short  wire  ran  from  headquarters  to  an  out- 
lying command.  So  often  were  its  messages  read 
by  the  enemy  that  the  Captain  hit  on  a  great  scheme. 
He  would  have  a  cipher  code  to  which  only  his  cor- 
respondent and  himself  should  have  the  key.  One 
cold  night  a  long  dispatch  in  this  cipher  came  from 
the  headquarters,  and  his  correspondent  at  the  other 
end  was  summoned  from  bed  to  read  it.  For  two 

317 


THE       CAPTAIN 

hours  he  struggled  with  it  in  vain.  Half-frozen,  he 
telegraphed  back  in  cipher  that  he  could  not  under- 
stand. Out  of  bed  and,  in  his  haste,  with  only  a 
modest  garment  between  himself  and  the  arctic  at- 
mosphere, did  the  Captain  scramble,  and  seized  the 
dispatch.  Verily,  it  was  Greek  and  of  a  new  alpha- 
bet. Not  a  word  meant  anything.  Yet,  as  the 
cipher  was  his  own,  pride  would  not  let  him  give 
it  up.  So  the  early  morning  light  found  him  still 
at  it,  his  nose  blue,  and  as  his  correspondent  would 
always  have  it  —  the  air  about  him  of  the  same 
colour.  Dawn  made  him  ashamed,  and  back  to  bed 
he  crept.  The  cipher  code  fell  into  disrepute  there- 
with. 

Officers  of  the  staff  often  took  the  place  of  the  tele- 
graph. There  was  hard  riding  in  those  days,  and 
David's  strength  came  back  and  his  flesh  hardened 
with  the  miles  he  covered  over  the  winter-roughened 
Mississippi  roads. 

One  morning,  riding  away  from  headquarters,  he 
was  hailed  from  a  house  on  the  main  street,  and 
reluctantly  drew  up.  His  uncle  balanced  himself  on 
his  crutch  at  the  edge  of  the  porch.  "  David,"  he 
said,  "come  up  here,  won't  you?  I  want  to  talk 
with  you." 

"  I  haven't  time  now,"  David  answered.  "  What 
do  you  wish  to  say?  " 

Mr.  Mayhew's  voice  was  reproachful.  "  Do 
you  know  we  have  been  in  this  town  together  for 

318 


THE       CAPTAIN 

three  weeks,  and  in  that  time  you  haven't  said  twenty 
words  to  me?"  There  was  no  reply.  "What  is 
wrong?"  he  asked.  "Come,  speak  out!  Have  I 
said  anything  to  offend  you?  I  thought  of  asking 
the  Captain,  but  I  did  not.  Now  I  ask  you.  It  is 
only  fair  you  should  answer.  What  is  it?  " 

"  Nothing."  David  fingered  the  reins  impatiently. 
"  I  have  been  busy.  Is  there  anything  else?  " 

His  uncle  studied  his  face,  and  shook  his  head. 
"  I  am  sorry  for  whatever  has  made  you  feel  this 
way,"  he  said,  "  for  I  am  proud  of  you,  David.  I 
told  the  Captain  only  the  other  day  that  you  had 
done  your  duty  always,  and  repaid  me  many  times 
over  for  whatever  little  I  have  been  able  to  do 
for  you.  That  makes  it  hurt  all  the  more.  I  have 
made  mistakes,  I  suppose.  Is  it  one  of  those  ?  " 

"  It  is  important  I  should  go  on.  If  you  have 
nothing  you  wish  done  at  once,  I  will  have  to  leave." 

"  No,"  answered  Mr.  Mayhew,  "  I  will  not  trouble 
you."  He  eased  himself  painfully  on  his  crutch. 

David  drew  in  his  reins,  then  turned  abruptly  in 
his  saddle  again.  "  I  will  be  glad  to  do  what  you 
want  if  I  can." 

Mr.  Mayhew  shook  his  head  and  steadied  himself 
with  one  hand  against  a  post  of  the  porch.  His 
crippled  leg  swung  free  of  the  ground.  "  I  can 
manage  it  somehow  myself,"  he  said.  "  But  there 
is  something  else  you  can  do.  I  have  a  letter  I  wish 

319 


THE       CAPTAIN 

delivered.  You  can  see  that  it  is  sent  down  to 
Oxford." 

"  Oxford?    I  am  going  there  myself." 

"When?" 

"  Now.    Is  the  letter  ready?  " 

"  Why,  yes.  It  was  ready  last  night.  It  is  for  the 
gentleman  who  came  down  with  me  from  St.  Louis. 
Will  you  give  it  to  him  in  person?  "  Perhaps  there 
was  a  shade  more  of  emphasis  on  that  last  word 
than  its  speaker  had  intended.  "  Yes,"  David  said. 
"  Let  me  have  it." 

Mr.  Mayhew  hobbled  indoors.  A  minute  later 
David  was  riding  away,  a  long  sealed  envelope  in  his 
breast  pocket.  "  If  you  don't  find  Mr.  Salesburg, 
you  might  as  well  bring  it  back,"  came  to  him  from 
the  porch. 

The  early  December  night  was  falling  two  days 
later  when  David  rode  up  the  same  street,  one  leg 
thrown  over  the  pommel  of  his  saddle  to  rest  his 
aching  muscles,  and  drew  up  in  front  of  the  house. 
He  was  about  to  slide  to  the  ground  when  his  uncle's 
figure  appeared  in  the  doorway.  "  I  saw  you  com- 
ing," he  called.  "  But  you're  ahead  of  time.  I 
thought  you  said  to-morrow." 

"  I  did.  But  I  decided  not  to  wait.  Mr.  Sales- 
burg —  your  friend  —  " 

"You  found  him?" 

"  No  —  he  was  arrested  just  before  I  got  there." 

"  Arrested !  "     Mr.  Mayhew  had  swung  himself 

320 


THE       CAPTAIN 

out  to  the  steps.  "  What's  that?  You  can't  mean 
he  has  —  been  buying  cotton  again?  He  expressly 
told  me  he  would  stop  that." 

"  No,"  David  said,  and  wondered  a  little  at  the 
evenness  of  his  own  voice.  "  So  far  as  I  know  he 
bought  no  cotton.  He  was  arrested  on  suspicion  of 
communicating  with  the  enemy." 

Mr.  Mayhew  shifted  himself  on  his  crutch,  and 
ran  his  tongue  along  his  lips.  Then  he  said,  slowly, 
"  That  is  serious.  I  cannot  make  it  out.  I  have 
known  him  a  long  time.  There  must  be  some  mis- 
take. On  suspicion,  you  say?  What  was  the  evi- 
dence? " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  did  not  inquire.  But  they  are 
holding  him." 

"  So  he  sent  no  message  ?    You  did  not  see  him  ?  " 

"  No.     Under  the  circumstances  I  did  not  try." 

"  But  you  gave  him  my  letter,  of  course."  It  was 
a  statement,  not  a  question.  David  leaned  forward 
in  the  saddle,  staring  into  his  uncle's  face.  But 
the  heavy-lidded  eyes  met  his  own,  and  Mr.  May- 
hew  added,  "Yes,  why  not?  It  was  a  business 
letter.  Besides,  his  arrest  is  all  a  mistake." 

There  was  a  moment  in  which  David,  doubting 
still  the  sincerity  of  that  careless  inquiry,  did  not 
speak.  He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  coat.  "  Anyway, 
I  did  not  deliver  the  letter,"  he  said.  "  Here  it 
is." 

Mr.  Mayhew  took  it,  and  tapped  it  with  a  finger. 

321 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Then  he  dropped  it  carelessly  into  his  pocket.  "  Per- 
haps it  is  just  as  well,"  he  said.  "  It  would  be 
of  no  use  to  him  as  matters  stand.  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you.  But  —  arrested!  I  can  hardly  be- 
lieve it." 

David  rode  away  while  his  uncle  repeated  the 
remark,  shaking  his  head  over  it  incredulously. 

At  the  week's  end,  however,  headquarters  were 
moved  to  Oxford,  and  there  it  was  reported  that 
the  case  against  Salesburg  was  not  to  be  pushed. 
The  fact  was,  there  was  not  evidence  sufficient  to 
hold  him.  In  default  of  this  he  was  given  twenty- 
four  hours  to  get  out  of  the  lines.  From  Holly 
Springs,  where  Mr.  Mayhew  had  remained,  David 
received  two  days  later  a  lengthy  letter.  Mr.  May- 
hew  wrote  that,  while  he  still  did  not  believe  that 
Salesburg  was  guilty  of  the  charge  brought  against 
him,  he  had  discovered  facts  which  made  him  glad 
their  connection  had  been  severed.  If  he  had  known 
these  facts  before,  as  a  loyal  Union  man,  he  would 
have  been  forced  to  lodge  the  information  at  head- 
quarters. With  an  exclamation  of  disgust  David 
chucked  the  letter  into  the  fire.  At  the  same  time 
he  was  conscious  that  his  action  sprang  from  an 
impulse  as  intangible  as  was  the  feeling  which  always 
made  him  uneasy  in  his  uncle's  presence. 

But  two  weeks  of  hard  riding,  while  the  Captain 
organised  his  connections  with  the  North  and  made 
ready  to  move  on  Vicksburg  when  the  time  came, 

322 


THE       CAPTAIN 

banished  these  thoughts  from  his  mind.  Boone  had 
been  sent  north  on  special  duty  connected  with 
enrolments,  and  was  not  expected  back  for  ten  days. 
Again  and  again,  'coming  into  his  room  at  night, 
David  sat  down  to  a  table  in  the  corner  and  drew 
paper  to  him  and  wet  a  pen,  and  there  remained, 
scratching  aimless  figures,  and  writing  the  one  word, 
"  Lee,"  "  Lee,"  over  and  over,  in  the  end  each  time 
to  drop  the  pen  and  tear  up  the  paper.  What  was 
the  use  of  writing  when  no  answer  came? 


323 


XXI 

FROM 
THE  FRONT 

IT  seemed  to  Lee  as  if  that  summer  would  never 
end,  but,  at  last,  October  came  and  the  sun's  heat 
was  lifted  from  the  country  about  St.  Louis.  She 
began  to  ride  again.  For  weeks  Dick  had  stamped  in 
his  stall  or  run  at  will  about  the  big  field  which 
was  his  exclusive  possession.  He  would  canter  to 
the  fence  at  the  first  sight  of  her  approaching  figure 
and  nose  into  her  hand  for  the  apple  which  he  was 
sure  to  find.  While  he  munched  it  she  would  stroke 
his  muzzle  and  talk  to  him.  Then  he  learned 
things  which  he  had  never  known  before,  and  it 
may  be  his  soft  eyes  sometimes  gave  her  the  answer 
for  which  she  asked.  'Lias  polished  the  horse's 
coat  and  time  and  again  brought  him  saddled  and 
bridled  to  the  mounting  block,  and  poked  his  head 
into  the  library  door  with  a  brisk,  "  Dick's  all 
ready,  Miss  Lee."  But  she  would  reply,  "  I  don't 
think  I  will  ride  to-day,"  and  had  always  ready  some 
good  reason  for  the  decision.  Never  did  she  show 
surprise.  It  would  have  puzzled  the  most  observing 

324 


THE       CAPTAIN 

onlooker  to  say  that  the  horse  had  not  been  brought 
to  the  house  by  her  express  order. 

Back  to  the  stable  each  time  Dick  was  slowly  led, 
'Lias  muttering  to  himself  for  every  step  of  the  way, 
and,  while  the  saddle  and  bridle  were  being  re- 
moved, the  muttering  went  on.  Dick,  grinding 
feed  in  the  manger  or  cropping  late  grass  in  the 
back  field,  reflected  on  these  vagaries.  He  was  told 
there  had  been  no  letter  from  the  master  since  Sep- 
tember. But  had  not  the  last  letter  said  they  must 
not  be  alarmed  if  they  did  not  hear  from  him  directly 
for  some  time?  He  was  marching  through  a 
country  rent  with  war,  where  communication  with 
the  North  was  almost  impossible  and  always  uncer- 
tain. He  would  write,  of  course,  but  that  was  all 
he  could  promise. 

With  this  knowledge  why  did  she  come  down  to 
the  pasture  bars  that  day  in  early  November  and 
press  her  cheek  against  Dick's  neck  and  wind  her 
fingers  in  his  mane  and  stand  so  silent  even  when  he 
rubbed  his  nose  against  her  shoulder?  There  had 
been  another  battle,  to  be  sure.  But  the  lists  of  the 
killed  and  wounded  had  been  printed  in  the  news- 
papers. 'Lias  had  read  them  aloud  that  morning. 
The  master's  name  was  not  in  them.  Nor  did  it 
appear  in  any  of  the  reports  which  followed.  He 
tried  to  tell  her  to  get  the  newspaper  and  see  this  for 
herself.  But  she  only  shook  her  head  and  kissed  the 

325 


THE       CAPTAIN 

white  spot  between  his  eyes,  and  then  went  away, 
walking  swiftly  toward  the  house. 

After  that  there  were  three  weeks  in  which  she 
came  often  to  see  him,  her  face  white,  her  eyes  dry 
but  far-away  and  empty  in  their  gaze,  and  she  so 
very,  very  silent.  'Lias  told  him  she  had  written. 
To  Captain  Ford  —  twice,  and  no  answer  came. 
Then  a  letter  to  the  young  man  with  the  chestnut 
hair  who  sat  so  easily  the  gray  horse  which  made 
him  (Dick)  stretch  his  lean  legs  to  their  very  limit 
in  a  burst  of  speed  on  the  Gravois  road  one  day 
now  almost  a  year  ago.  'Lias  shook  his  head  over 
this  last  letter.  "  If  Mr.  David  had  not  answered, 
how  could  she  expect  anything  from  the  rebel  side? 
And  the  Doctor  was  safe,  of  course.  But  it  would  be 
mighty  comforting  to  hear  so,  just  the  same." 

Old  Betty,  who  had  recovered  from  her  latest 
mortal  illness,  was  deeply  concerned,  and  one  day 
when  Lee  came  to  the  cabin  door  to  bid  her  good 
morning,  laid  a  gnarled  hand  on  her  arm.  "  Honey, 
it  bust  m'  ole  heart,  it  jes'  do,  t'  see  yo'  frettin' 
yo-self  dis  hyar  way  'bout  de  Doctah.  He  am  all 
right.  Miss  Lee.  De  Lawd's  done  watchin'  ober 
him,  yo'  kin  be  sho'  he  am.  He  won't  'low  one  o' 
his  lambs  t'  be  shawn  o'  her  only  parent.  Pray  t'  him, 
Mis'  Lee.  Git  down  on  yo'  knees  an'  pray  t'  him. 
Pray'r  is  wond'rful  comfurtin',  honey.  An'  it  done 
'suade  de  Lawd  more'n  once,  I  tell  yo',  it  done 
do  dat  sho',  many  times." 

326 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  I  know  that,  Betty."  Lee  looked  into  the  plead- 
ing old  face  and  smoothed  the  withered  hand  be- 
tween her  own.  "  I  do  pray,  many,  many  times." 

"  But  mebbe  yo'  ain't  done  pray'd  hard  'nough, 
honey.  A  pow'rful  lot  'pends  on  dat.  An'  yo' 
mustn't  try  t'  tell  de  Lawd  what  he  oughter  do. 
Jess  gib  yo'self  'nto  his  hands,  an'  tell  him  yo' 
'lows  he  will  do  what  is  fo'  de  best.  I  know,  honey, 
I  know,  case  I  done  hab  'sperience.  Der  wuz  de 
time  when  I  wuz  married  t'  Zach'riah  Peyton,  tha' 
shif'less  Georgy  nigger  what  yo'  pa  done  brung  up 
'long  wif  him  on  one  o'  his  trips.  Yo'  wuz  a  li'l  girl 
den,  honey,  no  more'n  high  ez  Ole  Betty's  knee,  but 
I  done  rmember  it  all  well  ez  it  wuz  yest'day.  Zach- 
'riah suttinly  did  beat  m'  cruel,  but  I  jes'  went  on, 
an'  didn't  do  nuffin',  an'  jest  stood  it  long  ez  I  cud. 
Den  when  it  gotten  so  bad  dat  it  didn't  seem  it 
cud  git  no  wusser,  I  begun  t'  pray.  I  pray'd  pow'rful 
hard,  honey,  an'  I  pray'd  night  an'  mornin',  an' 
'tween  meals,  when  de  sun  wuz  riz  an'  when  it 
wuz  a-settin'  an'  'long  in  de  night-time,  too.  But 
I  didn't  try  t'  tell  de  Lawd  what  he  oughter  do. 
All  I  ast  him  wuz  jes'  t'  take  Ole  Betty  outer  her 
trubble.  '  Lawd,'  I  sez,  '  good  Lawd,  dis  yer  state 
o'  misery  cain't  go  on.  It  am  too  sham'ful.  An' 
I  knows  yo'  won't  'low  it.  One  o'  us  gotter  go. 
Take  one  o'  us,  Lawd!  Take  Zach,  er  take  Ole 
Betty.'  Dat's  what  I  said.  'Take  Zach  er  take 
Ole  Betty.  I  doan't  cyar  which.  I'm  sho'  wo'n 

327 


THE       CAPTAIN 

out,  an'  I  wanter  die.'  An'  he  done  it.  He  heard 
me.  An'  thank  de  Lawd,  he  done  take  Zach." 

If  the  sympathy  of  the  rest  of  her  people  did  not 
take  the  form  of  exhortation  and  the  recitation  of 
experience,  it  was  not  less  constant,  and  Lee  found 
consolation  many  a  time  in  the  arms  of  Mammy 
Rachel,  who  had  been  a  body-servant  till  age  retired 
her  to  the  post  of  a  privileged  character  with  nomi- 
nal duties  in  the  kitchen. 

So  November  drew  to  a  close,  and  one  afternoon, 
riding  homeward,  Lee  saw  a  wagon  coming  toward 
her,  and  recognised  the  crippled  figure  in  a  back 
seat.  It  surprised  her.  Mr.  Mayhew  had  not  been 
seen  in  Gravois  for  a  month  past,  and  'Lias  had 
repeated  an  ugly  rumour  about  the  business  which 
took  him  away.  Nevertheless,  by  the  time  the  car- 
riage was  opposite,  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to 
speak  to  him.  So  determined  was  she  that,  even 
when  she  realised  that  he  had  shrunk  back  in  the 
shadow  of  the  carriage  cover  and  turned  his  face 
away,  she  called  to  him.  She  called  him  by  name 
a  second  time  when  he  did  not  turn,  and  then  his 
face  came  about.  "Oh,  Miss  Shirley!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you.  I  was 
very  tired.  I  rather  think  I  was  half-asleep." 

She  did  not  reply  to  the  lie.  "  I  called  to  you," 
she  explained,  "  because  I  thought  you  might  be 
able  to  tell  me  something  about  David.'* 

"Yes?" 

328 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Her  lips  closed  tightly,  she  almost  repented  of 
having  spoken.  But  she  remembered  her  misery  and 
that  here  was  a  chance,  and  no  chance  must  go  by. 
"  Do  you  know  where  he  is?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  believe  he  is  at  Holly  Springs." 

"Holly  Springs?" 

"  In  Mississippi."  Mr.  Mayhew's  eyes  had  not 
travelled  over  her  face  for  nothing.  He  added, 
with  sudden  interest,  "  Can  I  do  anything  for  you? 
I  may  be  near  there  soon.  Holly  Springs  is 
headquarters  —  the  Union  headquarters  just  at 
present.  And  I  am  luckily  able  to  be  of  some  small 
service  to  the  Captain,  now  and  then.  So  I  might 
be  of  service  to  you  also." 

"  If  you  will  take  a  letter  for  me  to  David,  you 
will  do  me  a  great  favour.  It  is  about  my  father. 
I  have  not  heard  from  him,.  I  thought  David  might 
be  able  to  find  out  why  —  why  it  is  so." 

Mr.  Mayhew's  mouth  opened,  and  she  thought 
that  he  was  going  to  question  her.  But  his  tongue 
passed  over  his  lips,  and  he  drew  down  his  brows. 
"  That  is  too  bad,"  he  said.  "  But  you  must  not  be 
worried.  Your  father  is  all  right,  of  course.  You 
cannot  depend  on  letters  which  have  to  come  through 
the  Union  lines,  remember.  I  will  take  your  letter 
with  the  greatest  pleasure." 

He  rode  into  the  gate  behind  her,  and  waited  in 
the  carriage  while  she  ran  into  the  house  and  wrote 
a  short  note  She  hesitated  with  the  flap  of  the 

329 


THE       CAPTAIN 

envelope  unsealed,  then  ran  out  again,  and  handed 
it  to  him.  He  turned  it  in  his  hands.  "  With  your 
permission,"  he  said,  smiling;  and  touched  it  to 
his  lips,  and  pressed  the  flap  down.  "  Times  are 
uncertain,"  he  vouchsafed.  "  And  some  accidental 
hand  might  not  be  as  friendly  as  mine." 

She  was  afraid  he  saw  the  disgust  which  this 
civil  remark  brought  into  her  face.  But  then  he 
was  driving  away  and  still  smiling  on'  her  as  he 
raised  his  hat.  She  never  knew  that  as  soon  as  his 
head  was  withdrawn  into  the  carriage,  a  pointed 
nail  was  slipped  beneath  the  extreme  edge  of  the 
flap  of  the  envelope,  and  that  satisfaction  narrowed 
his  eyes  as  he  leisurely  perused  the  folded  sheet  of 
paper  which  he  extracted.  Yet  it  was  a  simple  note, 
a  frank  call  to  an  old  friend  and  comrade  to  help  her. 
Between  the  lines  might  have  been  another  message, 
and,  perhaps,  it  was  that  which  made  Mr.  Mayhew's 
smile  last  for  as  long  as  he  balanced  the  paper  in  his 
fingers. 

The  girl,  standing  on  the  porch,  watched  the 
carriage  drive  away  with  wishes  in  her  heart  which 
she  hardly  understood.  But  she  was  not  smiling, 
and,  presently,  gathering  up  her  riding-dress,  with 
a  little  sigh  she  descended  the  steps  and  walked 
toward  the  stable,  leading  Dick. 

'Lias  met  her  half-way,  and  took  the  bridle.  He 
was  scowling.  She  asked  him  why.  He  jerked  a 

330 


THE       CAPTAIN 

thumb  over  his  shoulder  down  the  road.  "  That!  " 
he  said,  "  Mr.  Mayhew." 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter?  He  has  just  done  me  a 
service.  He  has  taken  a  letter  for  me.  Perhaps 
we  will  soon  hear  about  the  Doctor." 

"If  he  helps  bring  word  from  him  I'll  be  ready 
to  forget  a  good  deal,  Miss  Lee,"  'Lias  answered. 
"  But,  if  so,  it'll  be  the  first  thing  he's  done  to  my 
liking.  Do  you  know  what  he  came  up  here  for?  " 

"  I  hadn't  thought  anything  about  it." 

"  Well,  it  was  to  get  rid  of  his  property.  I  heard 
some  time  ago  that  he  was  trying  to  sell  it.  Yester- 
day, so  Abe  Happel  up  at  the  store  says,  he  sold 
the  house  and  farm.  I  don't  know  what  he  did 
with  the  niggers,  but  they're  all  gone  too." 

"  If  he  did,  it  is  his  own  business,"  she  returned. 
"  He  has  a  right  to  do  what  he  wishes  with  what  be- 
longs to  him."  But  she  did  not  feel  the  indifference 
which  she  voiced;  and,  when  'Lias  shook  his  head, 
she  demanded,  "  Why  did  he  sell  the  place?  " 

"  Nobody  knows  for  certain.  But  — "  He 
looked  up  suddenly  and  his  eyes  were  wrathful. 
"  They  say  he  got  out  of  here  because  he  knew  that 
it  soon  wouldn't  be  healthy  for  him  to  be  about  these 
parts.  He's  been  corresponding  with  a  man  in  St. 
Louis  whom  they  locked  up  a  week  ago  for  treason. 
It's  that  lawyer  he  used  to  have  so  much  business 
with.  '  Cotton  trading,'  he  called  it.  I  don't  mind 
out-and-out  fighting.  But  there's  been  ugly,  under- 

331 


THE       CAPTAIN 

hand  business  going  on  here  for  two  years  past. 
I  told  Mr.  David  about  it  long  before  the  war  started. 
Now  they've  found  it  out,  and  I  doubt  if  Mr. 
Mayhew  is  seen  here  again.  If  he  is  — !"  He 
shook  a  fist. 

"  'Lias,  what  is  all  this  talk  ?  "  she  returned.  "  You 
mustn't  believe  everything  you  hear.  I  sha'n't,  any- 
how. See  that  Dick  is  well  rubbed  down."  With 
that  she  turned  and  went  back  to  the  house.  But 
more  than  once  in  the  following  week  of  unbroken 
silence  from  the  South,  wondering  whether  her 
letter  had  yet  reached  its  destination,  Mr.  Mayhew's 
face  drew  itself  for  her  in  space.  And  each  time 
it  seemed  to  be  laughing  at  her.  Dick,  champing 
over  his  manger  and  pawing  the  planks,  twisted  his 
neck  in  vain  whenever  the  stable  door  opened.  She 
and  he  rode  no  more  together  for  that  time. 

Kitty  came  to  the  house  regularly,  and  once  or 
twice  Lee  took  supper  with  her  and  with  Miss  Sarah 
Pinckney.  But  Kitty's  inconsequential  chatter,  and 
Miss  Pinckney's  occasional  sniffing  comments  upon 
the  conduct  of  the  war  alike  failed  to  draw  her  from 
her  recollections  for  longer  than  the  moment. 

Then  there  came  that  day  in  December  when  Dick 
knew  that  a  new  thing  had  happened.  'Lias  entered 
the  roomy  stall  and  patted  his  neck,  and  said, 
"  Good-bye"  Something  had  got  into  'Lias's  faded 
eyes  and  his  jaw  worked  nervously.  After  that 
another  hand  led  Dick  to  the  watering-trough  and 

332 


THE       CAPTAIN 

gave  him  his  oats,  and  he  turned  his  head  about 
and  whinnied  in  vain.  Neither  his  mistress  nor 
'Lias  came  to  see  him.  He  could  not  understand. 

On  that  morning  she  had  returned  from  a  long 
ride  on  the  Barracks  road,  and  went  into  the  house, 
and  she  had  sat,  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  picture  above  the  fireplace,  —  how 
long  she  did  not  know,  —  when  she  heard  Mammy 
Rachel's  dragging  steps,  and  then  her  voice  talking 
to  herself.  "  Yessir,  yessir,  Mis'  Lee  done  be  at 
home,  I  reckon.  But  I  ain't  goin'  t'  tell  yo'  dat 
till  I  done  be  sho'  she  wants  t'  see  yo'." 

But  Mammy  Rachel's  cautious  inquiry  was  fore- 
stalled. Something  cold  tightened  about  Lee's  heart, 
and  one  long  look  she  gave  to  the  kindly  face  which 
looked  down  on  her  from  the  wall,  and  whispered 
to  it,  "Oh,  wait  for  me!  Wait  for  me!  I  will 
hurry  —  hurry  so  fast.  If  you  will  only  wait !  " 
Then  she  ran  to  the  doorway  and  asked  Mammy 
Rachel  a  question  and  received  her  answer.  It  was 
Philip  who  had  come.  He  waited  for  her  in  the 
apple  orchard.  There  she  sped. 

He  stepped  from  a  clump  of  blackberry  canes 
which  screened  him  from  inquisitive  eyes,  and  hur- 
ried to  her  and  clasped  her  hands. 

Her  fingers  were  icy  and  her  eyes  fastened  them- 
selves on  his.  She  did  not  speak,  but  he  knew  that 
the  hardest  part  of  his  duty  was  done  for  him. 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  he  is  wounded.  But  he  will  not 

333 


THE       CAPTAIN 

die.  I  am  sure  he  will  not  die  now  that  he  knows 
you  are  coming." 

He  put  an  arm  about  her  shoulders  and  led  her 
to  the  old  bench  under  the  nearest  tree,  and  knelt 
beside  her.  "  It  was  at  Oxford,"  he  went  on.  "  He 
was  shot  —  leading  a  charge.  They  say  he  was 
far  ahead  of  his  men.  They  had  been  driven  back 
almost  when  he  put  himself  at  their  head.  He  is  at 
Vicksburg  now.  I  am  going  to  take  you  there." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  Yes,  I  will  be  ready  at 
once."  She  was  on  her  feet  swiftly,  straight,  and 
tall,  and  so  steady  that  the  hand  he  put  out  to  sup- 
port her  was  not  needed.  She  started  forward,  then 
suddenly  turned  on  him. 

"  Vicksburg  ?  "  she  cried.    "  Why  is  he  there  ?  " 

"  It  was  the  best  place.  Beatrix  is  there.  He  is 
at  her  house." 

"  But  Oxford  ?  "  she  insisted,  and  he  knew  that, 
if  he  had  concealed  the  truth,  he  would  have  had  to 
tell  it  then.  "  Oxford?  That  happened  long  ago." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  But  I  only  knew  about 
him  a  week  ago.  I  —  that  is,  they  took  him  to 
Vicksburg  then,  and  I  am  here." 

But,  Philip,  you  were  not  sent,  and  it  was  not 
"  they  "  who  brought  him  from  the  crowded  misery 
of  that  little  Mississippi  hospital  to  the  comfort  and 
care  of  the  old  mansion  back  of  the  Vicksburg  bluffs. 
She  knew  this  instantly.  And  half  an  hour  later 
when  she  and  you  and  'Lias  were  driving  for  St, 

334 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Louis  and  she  asked  you,  "  The  letter  I  sent  you 
about  two  weeks  ago?  You  never  got  it?"  he 
answered,  "  No."  He  did  not  guess  all  that  she 
gave  him  with  that  hand  which  was  laid  in  his 
own.  She  did  not  know  herself.  But  this  was  in 
her  heart.  He  alone  had  come  to  her  when  a  friend 
was  needed  most. 

On  the  Friday  afternoon  following  that  same 
Wednesday  two  letters  were  placed  in  David's  hands. 
They  were  both  from  her,  and  the  envelope  of  each 
was  a  map  of  those  stamps  and  endorsements  which 
confessed  the  failure  of  a  military  post.  He  read 
them  to  learn  that  the  South  had  called  the  Doctor 
away  at  last,  and  that  she  was  alone,  and  very 
lonely.  He  read  the  letters  through  many  times, 
hoping  to  find  that  which  would  make  it  less  hard 
for  him  to  know  that  he  had  failed  her.  Once  he 
had  promised  the  Doctor  something.  This  was  the 
way  he  had  carried  out  that  promise.  He  put  the 
letters  away  and  went  straight  to  the  Captain's 
quarters  to  ask  for  a  leave  of  absence.  He  was 
sure  he  would  get  it  when  he  told  —  not  all,  but 
enough  to  make  his  reason  plain. 

In  front  of  him,  as  he  entered  the  room  where 
the  Captain  sat  at  a  table,  stalked  a  tall  man,  mud- 
splashed  to  his  hips.  David  knew  him  for  a  cavalry 
officer  who  had  led  a  raid  to  the  north. 

The  Captain  looked  up,  gave  one  glance  to  the 

335 


THE       CAPTAIN 

officer's  face,  then  twisted  in  his  chair  with  the  sharp 
demand,  "Van  Dorn?  Where  is  he?" 

"  The  last  sign  I  saw  of  him  was  near  Potonoc 
on  the  railroad.  He  was  moving  north  with  a  large 
number  of  men." 

In  a  flash  the  Captain  was  bending  above  the 
table,  and  a  pen  flying  over  a  sheet  of  paper.  One 
sheet  after  another  was  tossed  aside.  Orderly,  aides 
were  summoned.  In  five  minutes  horses  were  clat- 
tering up  to  headquarters  and  away  as  fast  as  the 
orders  could  be  handed  them.  David,  bidden  to  stay 
where  he  was,  stood  by  a  window  and  waited.  In  a 
little  while  the  Captain  whirled  around.  "  I  may 
want  you  in  a  few  hours.  Get  some  sleep."  He 
turned  to  his  work  again. 

David  hesitated  and  made  a  step  toward  the  bent 
figure  by  the  table.  Then  he  faced  about  and  went 
out.  And  he  tried  to  take  the  Captain's  advice. 
But  sleep!  What  was  the  chance  of  that  with  this 
miserable  uncertainty  in  his  mind,  and  against  his 
breast  two  letters  to  remind  him,  if  he  should  forget 
for  a  moment,  that  she  had  asked  him  to  help  her? 
It  was  not  his  fault.  That  only  made  it  harder  to 
wait  here,  his  hands  tied.  He  had  heard  enough  in 
the  Captain's  office  to  guess  at  the  rest.  Van  Dorn 
was  out,  and  might  cut  them  off  from  the  North. 
To  every  post  commander's  orders  were  speeding  to 
watch  for  him,  .and  hold  the  stations  at  any  cost. 
For  himself  David  knew  that  there  was  work  ahead 

336 


THE       CAPTAIN 

which  would  keep  him  —  how  long  could  any  one 
say? 

It  was  at  that  most  chill  and  dreary  of  all  hours, 
when  dawn  seems  never  so  far  away,  that  an  orderly 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder.  The  Captain  wanted 
him  at  once. 

David  found  him  sitting  by  the  table  where  he  had 
left  him,  its  top  littered  with  papers,  a  saucer  filled 
with  stumps  of  cigars  by  his  elbow,  a  fresh  one 
burning  furiously  and  the  room  so  thick  with  smoke 
that  his  short  body  was  hardly  more  than  a  blot  in 
the  haze  of  blue.  There  were  deep  hollows  below 
his  eyes  which  were  feverishly  bright.  "  Take  this 
order  to  Colonel  Murphy  at  once  at  Holly  Springs," 
he  said.  "  See  that  he  understands  that  it  is  impera- 
tive. I  am  sending  reinforcements.  You  can't  get 
there  too  soon." 


337 


XXII 

AT   HOLLY   SPRINGS 

FOR  three  days  Boone  had  been  doing  what 
he  detested  most,  —  clerical  work.  Detailed 
to  help  verify  and  correct  the  rolls  of  forces 
in  the  district,  he  had  come  to  Holly  Springs  the 
day  before  and  here  had  encountered  what  made  his 
task  more  irksome,  —  a  commanding  officer  who 
chose  to  take  his  arrival  as  an  intrusion  and  his- 
inquiries  as  an  imputation  upon  his  own  capacity. 
There  were  fifteen  hundred  men  in  the  town.  Boone 
saw  enough  of  the  discipline  within  an  hour  to  sat- 
isfy him  that  his  report  upon  the  post  and  its  con- 
dition would  not  please  its  commander.  But  he 
maintained  an  unruffled  front  to  the  surly  treatment, 
and  stuck  to  the  room  overlooking  the  main  street 
where  he  had  his  papers  spread  out  on  a  table. 

On  this  afternoon  the  fading  light  made  him  halt 
when  he  was  but  half  through  his  labours.  With 
the  prospect  of  a  long  night's  work  he  stretched  his 
arms  so  that  the  muscles  cracked,  and  tilted  back 
his  chair.  The  muddy  street  under  a  gray  sky  made 

338 


THE       CAPTAIN 

a  cheerless  outlook.  He  was  growing  weary  of  the 
everlasting  figures  in  blue  who  paced  the  front  of 
headquarters  a  hundred  feet  away  or  marched  in 
small  squads  across  town  to  relieve  guard.  It  was 
an  immense  relief  when  a  ramshackle  wagon  pulled 
by  a  starved  horse  turned  the  corner  above  and  sunk 
into  instant  repose  in  front  of  the  one-time  hotel. 
He  watched  with  quickened  curiosity  its  occupants 
emerge  from  between  its  tattered  curtains. 

First  got  down  a  tall,  raw-boned  man  in  an  over- 
coat, who  continued  to  hold  the  reins  and  whip,  next 
a  much  younger  man,  his  soft  hat  pulled  low,  and 
his  black  clothes,  for  all  their  ill  fit,  exhibiting  a  cer- 
tain smartness  in  the  fashion  they  were  worn.  Bare- 
headed, the  young  man  spoke  to  some  one  within, 
then  extended  an  arm  and  handed  out  a  lady. 
Boone  stared.  There  were  a  few  women  about  town, 
to  be  sure,  but  none  like  this.  She  carried  herself 
with  an  air  which  even  the  long  travelling  wrap  did 
not  disguise.  But  she  wore  a  veil,  and  that  article 
of  apparel  was  distinctly  irritating.  It  completely 
hid  her  face.  She  walked  to  the  steps ;  there  she 
stopped.  After  a  moment's  conversation,  her  escort 
left  her  and  entered  the  building.  The  girl  sat  down 
on  the  steps.  She  leaned  against  a  post,  her  hands 
dropped  in  her  lap,  and  it  was  plain  that  she  was 
very  tired. 

If  a  squad  of  soldiers  in  Confederate  gray  had 
driven  up  in  the  wagon  they  would  hardly  have 

339 


THE       CAPTAIN 

gained  more  attention  than  had  the  travellers.  It 
seemed  that  notice  of  their  arrival  had  communi- 
cated itself  instantly  to  many  quarters.  From  up 
and  down  the  street  half  a  dozen  of  the  younger  offi- 
cers converged  upon  the  house.  Most  of  them 
strolled  by  it  with  obvious  carelessness ;  two  of  them 
mounted  the  steps  and  met  on  the  porch.  There 
they  went  through  a  pantomime  behind  the  back 
of  the  girl  which  brought  chuckles  from  their  ob- 
servers. They  affected  sudden  surprise,  then  lo- 
quacity; one  slapped  the  other  on  the  shoulder. 
Boone  made  sure  that  they  were  assuring  each  other 
that  the  next  day  would  be  clear  if  it  did  not  rain, 
or  elucidating  some  equally  safe  proposition.  Be- 
tween whiles  they  took  side-shots  at  the  girl  on 
the  step.  After  a  minute  they  ceased  to  try  to  con- 
ceal this  and  nudged  elbows  apparently  to  spur  recip- 
rocal courage  to  the  point  where  a  polite  approach 
might  be  made  upon  the  object  of  their  interest. 
They  were  so  engaged  when  the  lady's  escort  came 
out  of  the  door  and  stopped  short,  staring  at  them 
with  an  intentness  which  made  possible  only  retreat 
or  immediate  reprisal.  The  officers  hesitated,  then 
had  the  grace  to  show  confusion,  and  retreated. 
Boone  grinned  and  waited  to  see  the  rest  of  the 
play.  It  was  soon  over.  The  girl  rose  and  raised 
her  veil  as  she  mounted  the  steps.  For  a  moment 
the  profile  of  her  face  was  plain.  The  glimpse  made 

340 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Boone  frown,  then  lean  back  and  begin  to  search 
his  recollection. 

Round  the  mess-table  that  night  there  was  little 
talked  but  of  the  three  travellers  —  or  rather  one 
of  them.  They  had  come  from  Columbus  that  day, 
it  seemed,  and  were  on  their  way  south.  A  break- 
down on  the  road  eight  miles  north  had  left  them 
the  choice  of  an  indefinite  wait  or  a  drive.  They 
had  chosen  to  try  the  latter  and  had  impressed  the 
ramshackle  wagon  in  a  hazard  of  the  lakes  of  mud 
and  knee-deep  ruts  which  were  all  that  was  left 
of  the  wagon-road  into  Holly  Springs.  This  much 
information,  supplemented  by  the  fact  that  they  had 
passes  for  the  front  issued  in  St.  Louis,  was  the 
stock  in  trade  of  the  table's  conversation.  It  was 
enough  to  encourage  the  making  of  many  bets  that 
no  more  would  be  known  when  the  travellers  left 
town.  The  Holly  Springs  hotel  probably  had  more 
casual  visitors  in  uniform  that  evening  than  on  any 
one  occasion  since  its  occupation  by  the  Union 
forces. 

But  Boone  was  not  one  of  these.  With  a  pipe 
and  a  determination  to  complete  his  work  he  seated 
himself  at  the  table  immediately  after  supper,  and 
it  was  midnight  when  he  threw  down  his  pen  and 
began  a  last  smoke  before  bed.  Then  entered  a  lieu- 
tenant of  his  acquaintance,  and  precipitated  himself 
upon  the  bed  with  a  violence  which  made  that 


341 


THE       CAPTAIN 

venerable  article  groan.  "  No  use,"  he  grumbled. 
"  Couldn't  find  out  a  thing." 

Boone  laughed.  "  What  did  you  expect?  Did 
you  think  they  were  spies  ?  " 

"  They  could  be  anything  they  wanted  if  I  learned 
what  it  was.  It  looks  as  if  that  five  dollars  I  bet  was 
to  go  to  feed  the  crowd  And  I'm  a  whole  month 
behind  on  pay  already." 

Boone  puffed  away,  and  the  other  continued. 
"  That's  an  idea,  though  —  about  their  being  spies. 
I'll  throw  out  a  word  or  two.  If  the  old  man  got 
it  into  his  head  that  they  were,  he  —  " 

The  pipe  came  out,  and  Boone  remarked,  sagely, 
"  The  dog  might  have  caught  the  rabbit  if  he  hadn't 
stopped  to  scratch  for  a  flea.  The  colonel  '  might ' 
but  he  '  wouldn't.'  He  isn't  troubling  himself  much 
about  anything."  He  gave  a  grunt  of  disgust. 
"  It's  the  devil  the  way  some  things  go  on  anyhow. 
Look  at  that  canting,  smooth  old  hypocrite,  May- 
hew  !  —  poking  his  nose  into  everything,  sneaking 
out  of  town  and  back  again,  always  so  damn  polite. 
I  tell  you,  cripple  or  no  cripple,  I'd  like  to  see  him 
hung  up  by  the  thumbs.  And,  pass  or  no  pass,  I'd 
fire  him  out  of  lines  for  good  and  all.  But  how 
is  he  treated  ?  " 

The  other  man  laughed. 

"  As  for  the  colonel,"  Boone  pursued,  "  he's  not 
much  better,  to  my  way  of  thinking.  How  did  he 
treat  that  order  from  headquarters  to-day  to  look  out 

342 


THE       CAPTAIN 

for  Van  Dorn  ?  Said  he'd  see  it  was  carried  out  — 
to-morrow.  He's  unfit  to  command.  To-morrow! 
As  '  Old  Sugar-Coated  '  says,  '  You  can't  afford  to 
let  to-morrow  care  for  itself.'  By  that  time  —  Why, 
we  might  all  be  gobbled  up  by  then !  " 

The  other  kicked  his  heels.  "  What  if  we  were? 
Anything's  better  than  this  devilish  sitting  still 
around  a  lot  of  horse-meat  and  crackers  and  beans 
and  tin  cans  and  shoddy  blankets  and  saltpetre,  that 
comes  in  one  day  and  goes  out  the  next." 

"  Did  you  ever  figure  what  that  horse-meat  and 
crackers  and  tin  cans  is  worth.  Close  to  a  million 
dollars,  by  my  reckoning.  They're  the  supplies  for 
forty  thousand  men  or  more  south  of  us.  Rather 
good  to  have  someone  '  sitting  around  '  them,  with 
the  rebs  as  thick  as  flies." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so.  But  it's  slow.  Anything  for 
a  change,  I  say." 

"  Well,  let  me  get  out  of  here  before  your 
'  change  '  comes.  I've  got  some  papers  that  I've  put 
a  lot  of  hard  work  into,  and  the  Johnnies  wouldn't 
object  at  all  to  reading  them."  Boone  gave  a  tre- 
mendous yawn.  "  And  now  —  if  you  don't  mind 
—  get  off  that  bed  and  out  of  this  room.  I'm  going 
to  try  to  get  some  sleep,  and  right  away." 

The  officer  left  with  a  remark  about  "  unsociable 
brutes."  In  five  minutes  Boone  was  snoring. 

When  he  first  realised  that  he  had  been  awakened, 
he  cast  a  half-opened  eye  at  the  window,  and,  seeing 

343 


there  only  a  frame  of  the  gray  blackness  of  an  ugly 
dawn,  muttered  to  himself  about  the  poor  taste  of 
those  who  made  his  door-step  the  place  for  an  alter- 
cation at  such  an  unseemly  hour.  Then  he  turned  his 
head  on  the  pillow.  But  the  dispute  below  the 
window  grew  louder,  and  when  he  had  tried  in  vain 
to  close  his  ears  to  it,  he  got  out  of  bed,  slipped  on 
his  trousers  and  coat,  and  stumbled  down  the  stairs 
to  the  street  door. 

A  sentry  stood  there  parleying  with  two  men. 
Apparently  they  were  in  bad  temper  and  he  in  little 
better.  Boone  spoke  to  them  sharply.  "  What  are 
you  talking  to  that  guard  for  ?  Get  out  of  here !  " 

"Get  out, yourself,  you  damn  Yankee!"  one  of 
the  men  snapped  back. 

Boone  made  a  step  forward.  "  Put  that  man 
under  arrest,"  he  ordered. 

But  the  sentry  lost  the  chance  to  do  so,  and  his 
musket  in  the  same  instant.  The  two  men  leaped 
at  him  and  bore  him  to  the  ground.  As  Boone 
jumped  to  his  aid  three  more  men  ran  around  the 
corner  of  the  house.  And  by  then  it  was  become 
evident  even  to  his  sleep-clouded  eyes  that  the 
strangers  wore  gray  uniforms.  For  a  second  he 
stood  in  astonishment,  then  whirled  about,  stepped 
back  into  the  house,  and  flung  to  the  door.  He  had 
bolted  it  and  was  speeding  up-stairs  before  the  new- 
comers were  at  the  steps.  His  papers !  That  was  his 
first  thought.  They  lay  on  the  mantel-shelf.  He 

344 


THE       CAPTAIN 

held  them  a  moment  undecided.  But  a  yell  below 
resolved  him.  He  crammed  them  into  the  heart  of 
what  remained  of  a  fire  on  the  hearth,  and  ran  back 
to  the  window  of  his  room. 

At  sight  of  his  head  a  shout  went  up  from  the 
street,  "  Come  out  here !  We've  got  the  town !  " 

The  street  was  swarming  with  gray  coats.  There 
was  shouting  now  and  the  sound  of  shots  came  from 
the  far  end  of  the  street.  But  of  sign  of  organised 
resistance  there  was  none,  and  the  glint  of  arms  was 
at  every  corner.  Boone  believed  that  the  truth  had 
been  told  him.  So  much  for  the  disobedience  of 
orders  by  a  colonel  who  once  before  had  surrendered 
his  post  without  a  blow. 

He  cast  a  look  toward  the  fireplace.  Smoke  was 
curling  from  the  papers.  Another  demand  rose 
from  the  street.  "  Come  out  here,  you  Yankee,  or 
we'll  pull  you  out !  "  He  called  back  to  make  time. 
Then  a  little  ruddy  glow  on  the  wall  by  his  side  gave 
him  the  signal  he  waited  for,  and  he  drew  in  his 
head.  The  papers  were  blazing.  They  would  be 
of  no  service  to  any  one  in  another  minute.  He 
pulled  on  his  boots  and  stirred  the  charred  mass  on 
the  hearth.  Below  they  were  battering  on  the  door. 
He  went  down  and  opened  it.  They  greeted  his 
appearance  with  a  shout.  In  another  minute  he 
was  being  marched  up  the  street  toward  the  hotel. 

At  the  door  of  the  front  parlour,  a  man  with  a 
musket  brought  them  to  a  halt.  Van  Dorn,  the 

345 


THE       CAPTAIN 

rebel  leader  who  had  taken  the  town,  was  examining 
the  Union  colonel,  and  the  orders  were  that  no  one 
was  to  be  brought  in.  Boone  was  shoved  ahead  to 
the  next  door.  It  opened  into  a  small  room.  There 
they  left  him.  "  Stick  your  head  out  the  window, 
Yank,  and  you'll  get  it  shot  off!  "  was  the  warning. 
Then  the  door  was  closed  on  him,  and  he  was  alone. 
The  room  was  dark,  the  blinds  were  lowered,  and 
prudence  suggested  it  would  be  as  well  not  to  at- 
tempt to  raise  them.  He  found  a  chair  after  much 
stumbling.  The  partition  walls  on  either  side  of 
him  were  thin,  and  through  these  came  the  sound 
of  conversation. 

From  the  back  room  he  fancied  he  distinguished 
a  woman's  voice.  That  should  be  the  girl  who  had 
come  into  town  last  evening.  She  spoke  so  low  that 
only  occasional  words  were  clear.  But  the  voice  in 
conversation  with  her  was  stronger,  and  he  made 
out  that  an  argument  was  in  progress,  and  caught 
the  drift  of  it.  A  man  was  pleading  with  her.  He 
reasoned  patiently  and  calmly,  and  her  protests  were 
faint.  Presently  his  voice  fell,  and  he  said  some- 
thing of  which  only  a  few  words  were  plain.  But 
those  were  past  misunderstanding  and,  after  a  little 
silence,  Boone  heard  her  answer,  and  knew  that  she 
had  yielded.  He  heard  the  man  say  something 
briskly.  Then  he  left  the  room,  and  his  footsteps 
passed  Boone's  door.  After  a  minute  his  voice 
sounded  in  the  room  on  the  other  side.  There  was 

346 


THE       CAPTAIN 

another  brief  argument  there,  and  again  the  man's 
footsteps  went  by  the  door.  Then  the  man  and  the 
girl  were  talking  again. 

But  Boone  had  no  chance  to  hear  more.  He  was 
ordered  to  come  out,  and  next  he  was  standing  in 
front  of  Van  Dorn. 

The  Confederate  leader  was  seated  by  a  table,  his 
muddy  boots  on  a  chair.  On  the  table  was  a  double 
sheet  of  closely  written  paper.  He  smoked  while  he 
turned  the  leaves  of  a  letter-book.  Boone  recog- 
nised this  as  the  record  of  the  Captain's  orders  at 
Tuka  and  Corinth. 

Van  Dorn  tapped  the  book  with  a  forefinger. 
"  Interesting  reading,"  he  remarked.  "  I'll  keep  it 
to  remember  your  chief  by."  Boone's  smile  was 
rather  sour.  The  other  laughed.  "  But  I  won't 
bother  you  that  way.  We're  going  to  get  out  of 
here  as  soon  as  we  finish  our  little  bonfire.  We've 
got  about  a  thousand  bales  of  cotton  blazing  down 
the  street  and  a  rather  considerable  lot  of  mixed 
goods  to  help  along  the  fire."  He  picked  up  the  sheet 
of  paper  and  read  from  it.  It  was  an  inventory  of 
the  supplies  and  a  statement  of  the  Union  forces  at 
Holly  Springs.  "  All  down,  you  see,"  he  remarked. 
He  laughed.  "  Now  about  you,"  he  said,  suddenly, 
looking  up.  "  How  do  you  feel  about  going  free?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  What  I  say.  We'll  parole  you.  We've  paroled 
a  good  many  of  your  men  already." 

347 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Boone's    silence   quickened    the   other's    temper. ' 
"  But  you  want  to  be  right  smart  about  it.    Answer 
me!" 

"  I  will.  I  won't  give  you  my  parole.  You  want 
it  too  badly." 

"  You'll  soon  wish  that  you  had  the  chance  to 
give  it." 

Boone  did  not  answer,  and  the  demand  was  re- 
peated. "  Will  you  give  your  parole?  " 

"  No  —  I  told  you  I  wouldn't." 

"Very  well.  We'll  attend  to  you  later."  Van 
Dorn  shouted  for  the  sentry  at  the  door.  Boone 
was  pushed  into  the  next  room.  There  he  sat  down 
again.  It  was  a  dreary  wait.  From  the  back  room 
there  was  no  sound.  He  heard  Van  Dorn's  voice 
and  the  voices  of  others  in  the  front  room  for 
awhile;  then  they  ceased.  Presently,  the  noise  of 
trampling  down  the  hall.  The  dead  silence  which 
followed  informed  him  that  the  Confederate  leader 
had  gone  out  of  the  building.  But  he  was  reason- 
ably sure  that  the  door  of  his  own  room  was 
guarded,  and  that,  if  he  showed  his  head,  it  would 
be  to  furnish  a  target.  So  he  sat  and  made  guesses 
at  what  was  going  on.  With  every  burst  of  yelling 
in  the  streets  he  braced  himself  for  a  fulfilment  of 
the  threat.  But  no  one  came  near  him,  and  two 
hours  dragged  by.  At  last  he  ventured  to  raise  the 
blind  at  one  of  the  windows.  It  was  broad  day- 
light. Men  were  pouring  up  the  side  streets,  mov- 

348 


THECAPTAIN 

ing  toward  the  eastern  end  of  the  town.  A  great 
pall  of  smoke  floated  over  the  house-tops,  and  he 
could  hear  occasional  shouting.  But  apparently  he 
was  forgotten,  and  he  watched  from  the  window  for 
half  an  hour,  and  at  last  was  sure  of  one  thing.  The 
Confederates  were  making  ready  to  leave  the  town. 
With  that  thought  and  the  philosophic  reflection 
that,  having  been  overlooked  where  he  was,  he  had 
better  remain  there,  he  returned  to  the  chair,  and 
tried  to  draw  comfort  from  a  crushed  cigar  while 
he  pondered  on  the  conversation  overheard. 

A  very  muddy  rider  on  a  worn  horse  entered 
Holly  Springs  that  morning,  an  hour  ahead  of  the 
column  of  Federal  reinforcements,  and  pulled  up  to 
take  count  of  the  smouldering  remains  of  Southern 
jubilation.  Then  he  rode  on  and,  by  and  by,  Boone 
and  he  were  facing  each  other  on  the  steps  of  the 
hotel. 

"  I'm  about  four  or  five  hours  too  late  from  the 
looks  of  things,"  David  remarked. 

"  It  depends  upon  the  point  of  view,"  returned 
Boone.  "  From  mine  —  which  was  that  window 
yonder  for  almost  the  length  of  time  you  mention 
—  you  had  all  the  best  of  it.  Anyhow  —  " 

"Well?" 

"  It  wouldn't  have  made  much  difference  if  you 
had  come  yesterday  afternoon." 

"  Why  not  ?    I  have  orders." 

349 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  For  the  colonel  ?  Well,  you'll  find  him  some- 
where about  town.  That's  the  point.  If  you  had 
had  those  orders  then  and  delivered  them  into  his 
hands  I  don't  think  it  would  have  saved  the  place. 
He  showed  what  he  was  made  of  at  luka,  two 
months  ago.  It  was  bound  to  be  the  same  story 
here." 

David  twisted  his  lips  grimly.  "  It  couldn't 
be  worse,"  he  said.  "  But  come  and  help  me  find 
him.  I'll  give  him  these  orders,  anyway."  He  slid 
from  his  horse  and  shook  himself. 

"  You  know  what  this  means  ?  "  he  said,  as  they 
walked  up  the  street. 

"  The  end  of  the  movement  on  Vicksburg  for  the 
time  being.  The  Captain  will  have  to  fall  back  until 
supplies  come  down,  and  his  line  of  communica- 
tions is  safe.  Everything  is  against  this  campaign. 
Won't  Rawlins  swear  ?  And  Sherman  —  " 

"  Sherman  will  have  to  go  it  alone  down  there 
for  awhile.  But  only  for  awhile,  I  tell  you.  The 
Captain  had  made  up  his  mind  to  have  Vicksburg. 
He'll  have  it  whether  it  takes  a  month  or  a  year." 

Boone  nodded.  Then  he  dove  into  his  coat  and 
pulled  out  a  paper.  "  By  the  way,"  he  said.  "  here 
is  something  interesting.  A  complete  itemised 
account  of  our  supplies  that  were,  and  men  that 
are,  at  this  place.  Van  Dorn  read  some  of  it  to 
me  at  that  little  interview  we  had.  He  vamoosed 
in  such  a  hurry  when  he  heard  our  reinforcements 

350 


THE       CAPTAIN 

were  coming  that  he  forgot  it.  I  picked  it  up  from 
the  table  when  he  left.  The  question  is,  how  did  he 
get  it?" 

David  held  out  a  hand,  and  unfolded  the  paper. 
He  glanced  at  it  carelessly.  Then  his  fingers  closed 
convulsively  on  it,  but  this  his  companion  did  not 
see. 

"  Well,"  Boone  asked,  "  what  do  you  make  of 
it?" 

"  Of  this  ?  Oh,  not  much.  It's  —  it's  curious, 
though,  isn't  it?  What  are  you  going  to  do  with 
it?" 

"  I  thought  of  giving  it  to  the  colonel,  but  I 
changed  my  mind.  It  isn't  any  good  now,  except  as 
evidence.  If  we  could  catch  the  fellow  who  gave 
the  information  —  " 

"  Yes,  but  not  unless  you  caught  him,"  David 
echoed.  "  And  you  haven't  caught  him." 

"  Caught  him  ?  Certainly  not.  Nobody's  seen 
this  paper  yet.  It's  too  late  anvhow,  now/' 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course."  David  slowly  refolded 
the  paper.  He  remarked  after  a  moment,  "  I  am 
going  back~  to  Oxford  to-morrow  —  unless  orders 
change.  I  believe  this  paper  ought  to  be  there.  Sup- 
pose I  take  it  with  me  and  report  ?  " 

"  Go  ahead.  I  don't  care.  Headquarters  is  where 
it  belongs." 

David  put  the  paper  into  his  pocket.  To  Boone's 
steady  stream  of  talk  as  they  walked  on  he  made 

351 


THE       CAPTAIN 

little  response.  But  at  a  corner  he  halted  abruptly. 
"  Hold  on !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  won't  go  to  the 
colonel's  just  yet.  I  have  a  message  to  deliver,  and 
the  colonel  will  keep,  as  things  stand.  Mr.  May- 
hew?  Is  he  in  town?  " 

"  He  was."  Boone  did  not  try  to  conceal  his  dis- 
gust. "  He  was  among  his  own  when  the  rebels 
held  the  place  and  — "  He  broke  off  abruptly. 
"  Yes,  he's  here.  I  saw  him  after  they  left.  If  you're 
worrying,  let  me  say  that  not  a  hair  of  his  head  was 
harmed." 

David  took  no  notice  of  the  implication.  "  I  will 
see  him  now,"  he  said.  "  He  has  urgent  business  to 
attend  to.  Suppose  you  go  back,  old  man.  I'll  join 
you  in  your  room  in  an  hour.  I'll  find  the  colonel 
all  right." 

Mr.  Mayhew,  seated  by  a  table  in  a  front  room, 
raised  his  head  quickly  as  David  entered,  and  shot 
out  a  hand  in  welcome.  "  Why,"  he  cried,  "  I'm 
mighty  glad  you've  come.  I  suppose  you've  brought 
soldiers,  good  Union  soldiers?  We've  had  com- 
pany, unpleasant  visitors,  you  know  —  and  —  " 
He  stopped. 

David  was  standing  stiffly  a  few  feet  away.  "  I 
have  ordered  a  horse  and  wagon  for  you,"  he  said, 
quietly.  "  They  will  be  at  this  door  in  half  an  hour. 
You  will  be  ready  to  leave  then." 

352 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Mr.  Mayhew  stared.  "  Leave  ?  Where  do  you 
suppose  I  am  going?" 

"  I  don't  know  that.  Wherever  you  choose. 
So  that  it  is  outside  the  Federal  lines." 

Still  Mr.  Mayhew  stared.  Then  he  laughed. 
"  To  be  sure.  But  I  don't  believe  I  quite  understand 
what  you're  talking  about.  Sit  down  and  explain." 

.David  took  two  steps  forward  and  laid  a  hand 
upon  the  table  top.  "  I  do  not  know  what  these 
papers  here  are,"  he  said.  "  But  I  have  something 
in  my  pocket  which  you  wrote.  If  you  insist  I  will 
show  it  to  you.  It  was  left  behind  by  Van 
Dorn.  To-morrow  it  will  be  in  the  hands  of  head- 
quarters. But  not  till  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Mayhew  again  moistened  his  lips  with  his 
tongue  and  for  a  moment  not  a  muscle  moved. 
As  he  drew  up  his  crippled  leg  slowly,  his  upper 
lip  lifted,  and  beneath  his  lowered  lids  showed  that 
strange  phosphorescent  gleam.  But  for  a  little  while 
he  was  silent.  Then,  "  Oh,"  he  said,  and  dropping 
the  words,  "  So  it  is  that  way.  It  was  very  thought- 
ful on  your  part  to  come  to  me  first."  His  hand 
slipped  down  to  the  crutch  resting  against  the  chair 
and  fingered  it.  There  was  something  in  the  move- 
ment which  made  David's  muscles  stiffen.  But  the 
crippled  figure  hoisted  itself  in  the  chair.  "  When 
did  you  say  my  wagon  would  be  here?  " 

"  In  half  an  hour." 

353 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  So  soon !  It  is  short  notice.  But  I  can  be  ready 
—  if  I  must.  Is  there  anything  else?" 

"  No."    David  turned  on  his  heel. 

Mr.  Mayhew  spoke  softly.  "  There's  this,"  he 
said,  and  chuckled.  "  Don't  forget  it.  You  might 
have  saved  yourself  some  trouble,  and  perhaps  your 
people  might  not  have  lost  their  supplies  here  if  — 
if  you  had  read  the  paper  in  your  pocket  on  the 
day  you  carried  it  for  me  down  to  Oxford.  For 
it  was  a  copy  of  the  memorandum  which  you  now 
make  so  much  of,  and  perfectly  plain.  But  you 
brought  it  back,  brought  it  back  and  never  broke  the 
seal."  He  heaved  a  sigh.  "  It's  your  one  failing, 
David,  let  me  tell  you.  The  damned  thing  which 
I  suppose  you  call  honour." 

That  was  the  last  word  David  ever  heard  his 
uncle  speak.  It  was  the  only  time  he  remembers  to 
have  heard  him  utter  a  profanity.  He  strode  from 
the  house  with  the  soft  voice  in  his  ears,  without  a 
backward  look,  and  walked  far  up  the  street  and  out 
to  where  the  country  road  began,  swinging  along 
at  a  rapid  pace.  And  so  back  again  to  Boone's  door. 

At  the  door  a  darkey  swept  off  his  battered  hat 
and  held  out  a  letter.  "  Dis  yer's  fo'  Mista  Capt'n 
Foad,"  he  explained. 

"  That's  my  name."  David  took  the  letter. 
"Who's  it  from?" 

"  Don't  know  dat,  Capt'n.  Gem'lem  guv  it  t' 
m'  while  'go,  back  th'  road  a  ways." 

354 


THE       CAPTAIN 

David  tore  open  the  envelope.  The  note  inside 
was  in  his  uncle's  handwriting.  "  David,"  it  ran, 
"  one  good  turn  deserves  another.  You'll  be  inter- 
ested perhaps  to  hear  that  Miss  Shirley  is  travelling 
to  Vicksburg  with  a  gentleman.  Major  Randolph, 
I  think,  is  his  name.  It  gives  me  pain  to  say  that 
our  worthy  neighbour,  the  Doctor,  has  been  badly 
wounded.  It  is  a  pity  you  were  not  more  forbearing 
a  little  while  ago.  I  have  faint  recollection  of  a  letter 
from  Miss  Shirley  for  you  which  came  into  my 
hands  a  few  weeks  since.  But  you  were  so  abrupt 
—  you  really  were,  David  —  that  you  quite  drove 
the  mention  of  it  out  of  my  head,  and  I  have  lost 
the  letter  itself.  Very  careless  of  me,  but  you  must 
be  patient,  as  you  always  were  before,  and  doubtless 
Major  Randolph  would  say  it  was  as  well  anyhow." 

When  David  walked  up  to  Boone's  room  and 
pushed  open  the  door  he  found  Boone  was  stretched 
in  a  rocker,  his  feet  cocked  up.  The  latter  said, 
"  Hello,"  and  made  no  further  remark  after  a  look 
at  David's  face.  But  he  wondered  a  good  deal. 
David  lighted  a  pipe  and  flung  himself  on  the  bed. 
For  awhile  there  was  silence,  and  this  grew  into 
such  length  that  at  last  David  was  aroused.  He 
cast  a  look  of  inquiry  upon  his  companion. 

"Well?" 

Boone  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  his  lips 
parted.  But  he  quickly  put  the  pipe  back  again,  and 
pulled  on  it  vigorously.  David,  on  an  elbow, 

355 


THE       CAPTAIN 

watched  him,  and  again  the  pipe  came  out,  and  its 
holder  rubbed  the  bowl  with  the  palm  of  his  hand. 
"  Well  ?  "  David  repeated,  and  this  time  Boone  tried 
to  laugh  it  off.  But  it  was  a  failure,  and  David 
remarked,  "  Come,  you've  got  something  on  your 
mind.  What  is  it?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  Yes,  it  is.     Speak  it  out." 

"  I  have  something  to  say,"  Boone  acknowledged. 
He  did  not  look  up.  "  Something  I  meant  to  tell 
you  before.  But,  the  fact  is,  I  don't  know  where 
to  begin." 

"  At  the  start.  Is  it  unpleasant  ?  It  is  or  you 
wouldn't  have  any  trouble." 

"  It's  —  oh,  the  devil !  "  Boone  shook  his  pipe. 
"  Why,  here  I've  gone  and  made  a  mountain  out  of 
what  is  only  —  rather  odd.  You  probably  know 
something  about  it.  A  lady  and  two  men  drove  into 
Holly  Springs  yesterday.  They  were  coming  down 
from  Columbus,  and  there  was  a  break  on  the  rail- 
road." 

"Well?" 

"One  of  the  m'en  was  Major  Randolph." 

"  But  you  said  a  lady." 

"  Yes,  I  did.  She  —  Well,  the  other  man  who 
accompanied  her  was  that  old  fellow  who  used  to 
work  on  Doctor  Shirley's  place." 

"  'Lias  ?  Oh !  "  David's  eyes  opened  wide,  and 
he  remained  staring  at  Boone  for  a  moment.  Then 

356 


THE       CAPTAIN 

his  brow  contracted,  and  the  seconds  ticked  off. 
And  at  last  he  said,  "  The  lady  was  Miss  Shirley." 
He  spoke  so  calmly  that  astonishment  checked  the 
reply  on  Boone's  tongue.  So  they  sat  until  David 
asked,  "  Did  you  speak  to  her?  Why  did  she  come 
here?" 

Boone  answered,  quickly.  "  No,  I  didn't  get  the 
chance  to  speak  to  them.  But  I  know  that  they  are 
bound  for  the  South  —  Vicksburg,  I  think.  They 
came  into  town  for  the  night." 

David  did  not  appear  to  hear.  He  was  regarding 
his  pipe  which  he  turned  slowly  in  his  fingers.  A 
feeling  possessed  Boone  that  all  this  was  known  to 
his  companion  before.  For  himself  he  had  guessed 
at  a  good  deal  on  the  day  when  David  spoke  of 
writing  a  letter;  yet  he  had  looked  for  something 
different  when  he  should  tell  him  what  he  just  had 
told.  He  struck  a  match.  David  started  and  spoke. 
"She  was  not  hurt?" 

"  Hurt  ?  By  the  rebels,  you  mean  ?  Why, 
no.  The  fact  is  —  Oh,  no,  she  is  all  right." 

"  Then  she  is  still  here?  "  David  cried,  and  sat 
upright  suddenly. 

It  was  borne  in  upon  Boone  that  he  should  have 
begun  his  story  at  the  other  end.  "  They  were  going 
to  Vicksburg.  I  thought  I  said  that,"  he  explained. 
"  I  don't  know  why  they  were  going  there,  but  —  " 

"  But  I  do.    Where  is  she?    Where  is  she  now?  " 

"  She  is  not  here.    The  railroad  line  was  cut  below 

357 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  town  also.  They  could  not  get  out  that  way. 
So  Major  Randolph  thought  best  —  and  they  rode 
toward  Potonoc,  with  Van  Dorn,  this  morning." 

"This  morning?"  David  repeated.  "She  went 
away  with  —  "  He  slid  to  the  floor  and  walked 
over  to  the  window.  There  he  stood,  looking  down 
on  the  street.  When  he  turned  again  his  face  made 
Boone  wonder.  "  Major  Randolph  is  a  cousin  of 
Miss  Shirley's,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  You  did  not  know 
that.  And  they  went  to  Vicksburg  to  her  father. 
He  has  been  wounded.  I  just  learned  of  it.  But 
you  could  not  know  that  either.  It  is  very  simple 
when  one  understands,  you  see.  You  do  under- 
stand?" 

Boone  nodded.  David  caught  up  his  hat.  "  I 
believe  I  will  go  out  for  awhile,"  he  said.  "  Don't," 
as  Boone  rose,  "  don't  come  with  me.  I'll  be  back 
soon." 


358 


XXIII 

MR.   LINCOLN'S    KEY 

CHRISTMAS  Day  in  Vicksburg,  and  thou- 
sands watching  from  the  high  bluffs.  North, 
a  few  miles  above  where  the  river  made  a 
great  bend,  pillars  of  smoke  smirched  the  sky. 
From  Memphis  slowly  down  the  river  for  days  a 
fleet  of  transports  and  gunboats  had  been  moving 
—  Sherman  on  his  way.  Now  he  was  come.  Vicks- 
burg knew  for  what,  and  was  ready  for  him.  Mr. 
Lincoln  had  said,  "  Vicksburg  is  the  key  to  the 
Mississippi.  We  must  have  it  in  our  pocket."  Miles 
of  fortifications,  raised  above  and  around  the  town, 
dared  the  men  whom  Mr.  Lincoln  had  sent  to  take 
the  key.  From  the  high  Walnut  Hills  on  the  north 
to  far  below  the  city  where  the  bluffs  sheered  from 
the  river,  was  piled  battery  on  battery,  and  on  the 
ridges  to  the  east  other  embankments,  each  with  its 
separate  defiance.  On  this  Christmas  Day  Vicks- 
burg, looking  at  the  pillars  of  smoke,  declared, 
"  Here  will  the  Yankees  learn  that  the  South  holds 
her  own." 

359 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Back  of  Vicksburg,  on  the  western  slopes  of  a 
high  ridge,  was  a  house  which  had  sheltered  two 
generations  of  one  family,  and  was  the  home  of  a 
third.  It  was  a  double  house,  larger  than  its  neigh- 
bours, and  it  was  painted  white  and  had  a  porch  with 
high  columns  and  a  veranda  and  a  wooden  fan-work 
above,  that,  and  behind  it  was  another  porch.  The 
big  room  in  front,  with  its  prim  old  furniture  and 
curious  knicknacks  and  its  wall-paper  of  pictures 
taken  from  "  Paul  and  Virginia,"  had  long  been  the 
delight  of  children  for  miles  around.  Breezes  from 
the  Walnut  Hills  to  the  west  cooled  it.  From  it  could 
be  seen  the  court-house  on  the  hill  in  the  city,  its 
cupola  and  steeple  above  the  open  bell-tower  shining 
in  the  sun.  The  noise  of  the  city  came  but  faintly 
to  it,  through  its  garden  of  magnolias  and  gums 
and  its  double  row  of  china-trees.  Plantations 
stretched  beyond  it  on  the  other  side  of  the  succes- 
sive ridges,  —  plantations  of  cotton,  with  here  and 
there  an  old  gin,  and  scattered  cabins,  or  a  more  pre- 
tentious house  set  near  the  old  road  to  Jackson,  and 
standing  out  starkly,  for  the  trees  had  been  cut  down 
on  every  exposed  place  to  give  open  ground  for  the 
defence. 

The  master  of  the  big  white  house  long  ago  had 
been  carried  to  where  his  father,  and  his  father 
before  him,  lay,  and  since  then  the  negroes,  whose 
quarters  showed  through  a  group  of  magnolias,  had 
known  only  the  will  of  the  daughter  and  of  Miss 

360 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Celia,  whose  proud  boast  it  was  that  the  Pember- 
tons  and  Shirleys  had  given  more  soldiers  and  law- 
yers to  their  country  than  any  two  families  of  the 
South.  One  of  her  name  now  held  the  chief  com- 
mand in  Vicksburg.  Another,  her  nephew,  recently 
serving  with  Forrest,  was  the  colonel  of  a  regiment 
in  the  city;  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  Miss  Celia's 
confidence  in  the  impregnability  of  the  place  was 
rooted  rather  in  these  two  facts  than  in  all  the  frown- 
ing lines  of  guns  with  twenty  thousand  men  behind 
them  which  defended  Vicksburg. 

It  was  from  a  night  of  work  in  these  defences 
that,  on  this  Christmas  morning,  came  that  nephew 
riding  along  the  bare  road  and  into  the  hollow 
among  the  trees  which  girdled  his  cousin's  place. 
There,  dismounting,  he  walked  to  the  end  of  the 
porch  where  a  girl  stood,  looking  toward  the  hills 
to  the  north.  "  Lee,"  he  said,  "  I  have  come  for 
breakfast." 

She  turned  and  gave  him  her  hand.  "  I  was  hop- 
ing you  would,"  she  answered.  "  And  this  is 
Christmas.  I  give  you  my  best  wishes.  I  am  sorry 
it  is  nothing  more." 

"  Why,  you  are  here,"  he  returned.  "  This  is  the 
first  Christmas  I  have  been  able  to  say  that.  I 
thought  of  it  a  great  many  times  last  night  when  I 
was  down  to  Warrenton.  And  when  I  come  back  to- 
night —  if  I  am  able  to  —  you  will  still  be  here. 
The  Yankees  cannot  take  you  from  me." 

361 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Her  face  was  turned  from  him  with  a  quick  little 
movement,  and  he  understood.  He  slipped  an  arm 
through  hers.  In  his  happiness  he  had  forgotten 
her  sorrow.  Four  days  before,  they  had  arrived  in 
the  city  to  find  that  she  was  too  late,  that  her  father 
had  given  for  his  cause  the  most  that  man  has  to 
give.  Her  black-robed  figure,  as  it  moved  so  silently 
about  the  house,  had  wrenched  Philip's  heart.  From 
the  moment  at  Gravois  when  he  told  her  why  he 
came  for  her,  she  had  been  this  way.  Except  when 
she  knelt  beside  the  still  form  and  kissed  the  fore- 
head, and  then  gazed  and  gazed  into  the  face  whose 
folded  lips  seemed  almost  to  answer  her  pleading, 
"  Father !  Father !  "  he  had  seen  no  tear.  So 
now,  when  her  face  was  turned  again  her  eyes 
looked  into  his  own  with  a  brave  smile,  and  she 
asked  him,  "  They  have  come,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  Sherman  and  his  Yankee  army  and  the 
fleet  were  reported  above  Chickasaw  Bayou  last 
night.  They  will  probably  land  to-day.  But  they 
are  a  good  many  miles  away,  and  we  don't  intend 
to  allow  them  to  get  much  nearer.  We  are  almost 
ready  for  them.  I  must  leave  again  in  an  hour. 
Come  and  eat  Christmas  breakfast  with  me.  I 
may  not  be  able  to  have  another  breakfast  with  you 
soon." 

But  it  was  not  to  be  that  way.  Vicksburg  was 
better  guarded  than  even  its  defenders  believed ;  and 
December  passed  and  January  came  in,  and  still  the 

362 


THE       CAPTAIN 

city  reared  its  bold  front  above  the  river  and  defied 
its  enemies,  and  hundreds  perished  in  the  swamps 
to  the  north  and  on  the  sides  of  the  bluffs.  Then 
on  the  last  day  of  the  first  month  of  the  new  year, 
Vicksburg  heard  that  the  beginning  of  its  real  strug- 
gle was  at  hand.  The  Captain  had  arrived  at 
Young's  Point.  The  self-important  general  who 
had  met  his  match  in  the  staunch  old  admiral  of  the 
Union  fleet  was  deprived  of  his  command.  New 
plans  were  to  be  tried  to  put  the  key  of  the  Missis- 
sippi into  Mr.  Lincoln's  pocket. 

Vicksburg  knew  of  these  things,  as  it  knew  of 
what  things  followed  almost,  as  it  seemed  to  its 
enemies,  before  they  happened.  They  laughed  in 
Vicksburg  then  at  the  projects  of  the  bearded  man 
with  sober  eyes  who  had  set  himself  to  do  what  the 
"  Bear "  and  a  fleet  of  ironclads  apparently  had 
shown  to  be  impossible. 

Miss  Celia,  when  she  heard  Philip's  news,  con- 
temptuously declared,  "  Let  them  dig  their  canal. 
The  Mississippi  has  chosen  its  path  for  a  good  many 
years.  I  hardly  believe  it  will  change  its  ways 
because  this  Yankee  farmer  says  it  must."  Miss 
Celia  had  been  told  about  the  Gravois  days  by  Lee, 
and  to  her  the  Captain  remained  a  farmer  to  the 
last. 

Beatrix  laughed.  "  But,  Aunt  Celia,  a  farmer 
ought  to  know  how  to  dig-  better  than  anybody  else. 
And  just  think  how  terrible  it  would  be  if  he  did 

363 


THE       CAPTAIN 

steal  our  river  away  from  us!  What  would  we  do 
without  water?  And  what  would  he  do  with  it?  " 

"  Give  it  to  Mr.  Lincoln,"  Miss  Celia  suggested. 
"  From  all  I  have  heard  a  little  water  would  not  be 
amiss  among  the  Yankees." 

"  They  will  really  come  to  like  it  if  they  stay 
here  long  enough,"  Beatrix  rejoined.  "  Philip  says 
there  is  hardly  a  yard  of  dry  land  along  the  river 
above,  except  on  the  levees.  Lee,  when  next  you 
see  your  Captain  he  probably  will  have  wet  feet." 

But  Lee  did  not  smile.  "  I  have  heard,"  she 
said,  "  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of  sickness  among 
them.  Smallpox  and  fever.  Do  you  remember, 
Beatrix,  that  drive  we  took  when  I  was  here  four 
years  ago?  The  swamps  we  saw!  I  can't  forget 
them.  And  now  the  country  is  flooded,  and  they 
are  living  in  water  night  and  day." 

"  They  need  not  live  there  a  day  longer  than  they 
desire,"  remarked  Miss  Celia.  "  Let  them  go  back 
the  way  they  came.  We  do  not  want  them.  If 
they  will  stay  they  deserve  what  they  get." 

Lee  was  silent.  She  was  thinking  of  what  her 
father  had  suffered  while  the  fever  sapped  his 
strength  hour  by  hour  until  it  left  him  nothing  to 
fight  with  against  the  torture  of  his  wound. 

A  hint  of  her  thoughts  was  in  her  face,  and 
Beatrix  wound  an  arm  about  her,  and  reminded 
her,  "  Lee,  they  have  their  own  hospitals.  They 
can  send  their  sick  and  wounded  away  where  they 

364 


THE       CAPTAIN 

can  have  fresh  air  and  everything  they  need.  Our 
soldiers  have  to  be  brought  here,  into  the  city. 
I  was  at  one  of  the  hospitals  to-day.  They  are 
beginning  to  be  crowded." 

Miss  Celia's  eyes  darkened.  "  Yes,  but  we  will 
always  have  men  enough  to  drive  these  Yankees 
back.  They  can  dig  and  plan  till  doomsday;  they 
will  be  whipped  every  time." 

The  Yankees  did  dig,  and  they  were  whipped. 
The  first  time  it  was  the  river.  The  Captain's  ditch 
was  a  failure.  Perhaps  he  expected  nothing  better 
of  it  and  allowed  it  to  be  undertaken  only  to  employ 
his  men  while  his  army  was  strengthened  and  he 
made  other  plans.  The  second  time  that  he  tried  his 
hand  at  digging,  his  enemies  drove  him  back. 
Porter  was  sent  with  his  gunboats  to  find  an  open- 
ing along  the  tortuous  channels  of  bayous  and  lakes 
and  creeks  far  north  of  Vicksburg  and  so  come  down 
behind  the  city.  While  he  threaded  these,  in  front 
of  him,  out  of  reach  of  his  guns,  under  Confederate 
officers  hundreds  of  unwilling  slaves  and  some  who 
worked  willingly,  cut  down  trees  and  blocked  the 
waterways.  When  the  admiral's  boats  cleared  these 
trees  away  it  was  to  find  the  guns  of  a  newly  built 
fort  levelled  on  the  narrow  approach,  and  no  dry 
ground  anywhere  from  which  to  make  an  assault. 
So  ended  the  third  attempt  on  Vicksburg,  and 
Vicksburg  laughed  again. 

But  also  it  began  to  wonder.    This  man  who  had 


THE       CAPTAIN 

come  against  it  was  very  persistent.  Stories  were 
repeated  of  his  earlier  days.  It  was  said  he  never 
gave  up,  once  he  started  in  to  do  anything. 

But  before  this  the  city  had  a  fright.  A  little 
ram  ran  past  the  batteries  in  the  mists  of  a  bright 
morning  and  dealt  great  damage.  The  Queen  of 
the  West  she  was  called.  The  Confederates  remem- 
bered her  by  the  great  hole  she  stove  in  one  of  their 
gunboats  tied  against  the  bank.  Porter,  recalling 
her  success,  sent  another  craft  down  the  river  one 
night,  and  the  guns  above  and  the  guns  beneath  the 
city  opened  on  her,  and  an  avalanche  of  iron  beat 
upon  her  sides,  and  she  did  not  answer.  Red  fire 
pouring  from  her  funnels,  vast  clouds  of  black 
smoke  trailing  behind  her,  she  swept  on  with  the 
current.  Below  they  saw  her  coming,  and  to  save 
it  from  recapture,  blew  up  the  great  Union  ironclad 
Indianola  which  they  had  captured. 

The  next  morning  they  did  not  dare  show  their 
faces  because  of  what  they  had  done.  For  the 
invincible  craft  which  had  run  the  batteries  was 
grounded  on  a  shoal,  and  they  perceived  that  she 
was  a  raft  of  logs,  three  hundred  feet  long,  with 
wheelhouses  and  a  formidable  casemate  of  planks 
out  of  which  wooden  guns  were  thrust.  Her  smoke- 
stacks were  hogsheads  with  a  flaming  kettle  of  pitch 
and  oakum  in  each.  At  her  bow  was  a  flag  with 
skull  and  crossbones  on  it.  Her  wheelhouse  bore 
the  legend,  "  Deluded  Rebels,  Cave  In."  After  that, 

366 


THE       CAPTAIN 

it  is  said  that  the  gunners  on  the  Vicksburg  heights 
when  they  sighted  a  shadow  on  the  river  at  night, 
would  advise  one  another,  "  Let  th'  Yank  have  th' 
first  shot.  It  ain't  right  for  us  to  be  doing  all  th' 
shooting." 

But  there  was  shooting  enough  done,  and  to 
Vicksburg  fell  its  share.  North  of  the  city  the  guns 
made  the  air  tremble  again  and  again ;  along  the  dry 
ground  between  the  ridges  within  the  fortifications 
wound  long  lines  of  men.  Those  who  moved  north 
went  with  jogging  step;  those  coming  toward  the 
city  most  often  were  with  broken  ranks,  and  among 
these  scores  of  men  with  arms  tied  up  and  bandaged 
faces.  And  then,  covered  wagons,  and  groans  from 
these  which  sounded  in  one's  ears  long  after  the 
wagons  had  rumbled  on. 

Lee  had  seen  the  wagons  go  by  and  knew  what 
they  held.  One  evening  Philip  found  her  sitting 
at  the  end  of  the  porch  alone.  A  passion  vine  stirred 
its  leaves  at  the  touch  of  a  gentle  breeze  which  sifted 
through  the  magnolias  and  from  the  north  bore  a 
faint  noise  like  distant  thunder.  It  had  been  warm 
that  day  and  the  sun  had  shone,  and  now  the  sky 
overhead  was  flushed  with  its  reflection.  He  came 
over  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  porch  by  her 
chair,  and  leaned  his  back  against  a  pillar.  He  was 
satisfied  with  the  welcoming  smile  she  gave  him, 
and  in  silence  they  watched  the  fading  glow  to- 
gether. 

367 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Then  she  began  to  speak  about  the  wounded  men 
she  had  seen,  and  he  answered,  "  That  is  all  part 
of  war.  We  are  losing  no  more  men  than  the 
Yankees.  And  each  of  us  has  his  chance." 

"  But  when  his  chance  is  taken  from  him  —  "  She 
caught  herself  and  pressed  her  hands  together.  "  He 
never  has  another,"  she  said,  softly.  "  And  every- 
thing goes  on  —  without  him." 

"  Yes  —  it  goes  on.  But  not  one  of  those  men 
would  have  it  stop  because  he  couldn't  fight  any 
more." 

"  But  it  is  cruel.    So  cruel  and  hard." 

After  a  minute,  he  said,  slowly,  "  It  is  hard,  but 
the  hardest  part  must  be  —  when  you  know  your 
chance  is  going  —  to  realise  that  you  could  have 
done  better." 

"  If  you  have  done  what  seemed  right  —  "  she 
began. 

But  he  interposed,  "  No,  no,  that  is  not  all. 
Sometimes  things  are  settled  for  us.  We  only  know 
this  when  we  look  back.  Then  we  wish  —  I  hope 
that  I  won't  have  to  think  I  could  have  done  better. 
I  hope  I  won't." 

"  Why,  of  course  you  won't,"  she  answered,  won- 
deringly.  "  Please  don't  speak  that  way.  And 
nothing  is  going  to  happen  to  you." 

"Something  might  happen  to  me,  why  not?" 
Then  his  voice  changed,  and  he  said,  carelessly,  "  I 
am  like  the  rest.  And  I  reckon  I  could  stand  it  as 

368 


THE       CAPTAIN 

well  as  most.  Perhaps  better  than  some,  for  I've  got 
pretty  good  pluck  when  I  know  it's  needed."  He 
laughed.  "  'Deed  I  have."  Then  he  hooked  his 
hands  about  his  knee  and  looked  across  at  the  hills 
with  their  bare  tops  and  curving  lines  of  entrench- 
ments. Presently  he  went  on,  "  Sometimes  I've 
wondered  whether  if  I  had  known  you  before  —  a 
long  time  ago  —  it  would  have  been  —  different. 
It  would  be  very  hard  when  —  when  my  chance  is 
gone  —  if  I  should  think  that  it  might  have  been 
different,"  he  finished,  wistfully. 

His  boyish  face  was  raised,  but  not  to  hers,  and 
she  knew  he  did  not  expect  her  to  answer.  A  great 
pity  flooded  her  heart.  He  loved  her.  Yes,  and  he 
would  never  cease  to  hope,  not  until  the  very  end. 
It  was  in  his  voice,  in  his  eyes,  in  every  one  of  those 
little  tendernesses  with  which  he  had  surrounded  her 
since  he  brought  her  from  Gravois.  Yet  he  had 
never  spoken  of  it  after  that  one  day.  And  now 
he  only  told  her  that  he  wondered  whether  anything 
he  could  have  done  would  have  helped  him  with  her. 
If  his  chance  was  to  be  taken  from  him — ! 

Her  eyes  were  misty.  She  bent  toward  him  and 
touched  his  head.  It  was  the  touch  of  a  mother 
for  her  child,  but  neither  of  them  knew  that. 
"  Philip,"  she  said,  softly. 

He  looked  up  and  into  her  face,  and  for  an  instant 
was  dumb.  Then,  "  Lee!  "  he  cried,  and  caught  her 
hands  in  his.  How  could  she  tell  him  the  truth  then  ? 

369 


THE       CAPTAIN 

How  tell  him  what  she  knew  when  all  the  joy  of  his 
heart  was  in  his  eager  eyes,  and  his  lips  were  parted 
to  say  over  and  over  again  that  one  word,  "Lee! 
Lee !  Lee ! "  lower  and  lower  until  she  barely 
heard  it. 

For  three  days  after  that  evening  she  did  not  see 
him.  Early  in  the  morning  he  had  said  good-bye. 
He  was  assigned  to  duty  above  the  city.  "  Dear," 
he  said,  "  I  dreamed  last  night  that  you  told  me  you 
loved  me."  Then  with  a  whimsical  smile,  "  Now 
wasn't  that  w-dacious  of  me?  "  He  held  her  hands 
in  his,  wide  apart,  looking  up  at  her  from  the  step, 
bare-headed,  his  face  glowing.  "  But  maybe  it  was 
true?  "  he  asked.  She  could  not  answer,  though  he 
waited,  then  drew  her  hands  together  and  kissed 
them.  "  It  was  true,"  he  said.  "  It  was  to  me.  I 
knew  it  was  when  I  opened  my  eyes  and  saw  the 
sun.  I  knew  it  when  I  heard  your  voice.  I  will 
know  it  always.  And  to-night  I  will  dream  it  again. 
Then,  when  I  come  back  you  will  tell  me  it  is  true, 
won't  you  ?  Won't  you,  sweetheart  ?  "  Beatrix 
suddenly  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  he  dropped  her 
hands.  "  Say  that  you  love  me.  Say  it  to  yourself, 
dear,"  he  whispered.  "  I  will  hear  you." 

There  was  fierce  fighting  in  the  swamps  and 
flooded  land  about  Steele's  Bayou  to  the  north  of 
the  city.  Admiral  Porter  and  his  gunboats  for  a 

370 


THE       CAPTAIN 

week  had  been  working  through  the  twistings  and 
tangles  of  the  creeks  and  arms  of  the  bayou,  while 
their  enemies  felled  trees  in  front  and  trees  behind, 
and  the  low-hanging  limbs  tore  the  smoke-stacks  and 
the  upper  works  from  the  steamers,  and  smashed 
small  boats,  and  the  mesh  of  wiry  water  willows  laid 
hold  of  the  keels.  And  at  last  the  fleet  was  tied  up, 
and  could  move  neither  forward  nor  backward,  and 
Porter  was  at  bay  with  his  great  guns  almost  use- 
less because  of  the  banks,  and  his  enemies  closing  in 
on  him.  Then  came  Sherman,  paddling  in  a  canoe, 
almost  alone,  wading  through  the  swamps.  And 
with  his  infantry  drove  off  the  enemy  which  had 
fallen  on  the  helpless  fleet  from  every  point  of  dry 
land.  There  were  strange  sights  in  those  days 
among  the  swamps.  Men  to  their  hips  in  water 
sawing  at  logs  which  no  one  could  see.  A  dozen 
jack-tars  wielding  the  broom,  and  snakes  and  scor- 
pions and  bats  for  refuse  to  be  swept  from  the  decks. 
All  about  them  trees  growing  from  the  swirling 
current,  and  at  times  a  darkness  from  the  foliage 
overhead  so  dense  that  fires  had  to  be  lighted  to 
work  by.  In  one  of  the  darkest  of  these  places  on 
the  night  the  brave  Porter  found  himself  tied  hard 
and  fast  Philip  came  suddenly  upon  an  old  acquaint- 
ance and  had  a  few  words  with  him  before  one  side 
spied  the  other,  and  the  rifles  began  to  crack,  and 
they  were  enemies  again.  He  told  Lee  about  it  the 
next  evening  when  he  was  back  again. 

371 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  David  ?  "  she  said,  and  repeated  it  as  if  there 
could  be  no  stranger  name.  "  Yes.  He  asked  about 
you.  He  knew  you  were  here." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  must  have  known  I  was  here." 

"  I  thought  you  had  written  to  him  until  he  asked 
about  your  father.  He  was  wounded  himself,  he 
told  me,  at  Corinth,  and  has  been  away  from  the 
mails  so  long  he  was  eager  for  news.  I  told  him 
what  I  knew." 

She  stared  at  him  so  curiously  that  he  caught  her 
arm.  "  What  is  wrong?  "  he  asked.  "  David  you 
mean?  Oh,  he  is  all  right  now.  You  should  have 
seen  him.  I  thought  you  must  know  that."  Then, 
after  a  halt,  "  And  I  forgot  you  were  such  old 
friends." 

"  Yes,  old  friends,"  she  echoed.  Then  she  saw 
that  there  was  a  shadow  in  his  eyes,  and  smiled. 
"  David  is  my  oldest  friend,"  she  said.  "  I  always 
must  think  of  him  that  way  even  though  he  is  fight- 
ing against  us." 

The  shadow  was  lifted  from  Philip's  eyes.  "  I 
like  him,  too,"  he  answered.  "  He  will  be  our  friend 
too,  when  this  war  is  over.  I  can  even  forgive  him 
all  those  days  when  he  was  with  you  and  I  was  not. 
Because  —  Can't  you  guess  why  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  answered,  hastily,  but  he  would 
not  forego  the  joy  of  saying  it.  "  Because  he  was 
so  blind,  so  very  blind,  dear." 

Did  she  tremble  when  his  arm  crept  around  her 

372 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  he  drew  her  to  him?  If  she  did  he  knew  why 
this  was,  and  held  her  closer  until  she  slipped  away 
from  him. 

He  had  forgotten  his  meeting  with  David,  when 
she  spoke,  very  quietly,  "  You  said  he  was  —  away 
a  long  time.  When  was  that?  " 

"He?  David?  Oh,  that  must  have  been— -let 
me  see!  He  was  wounded  when  at  Corinth,  I  said. 
It  must  have  been  before  he  was  at  Holly  Springs." 

"Where?" 

"  Holly  Springs." 

"  Was  he  there  when  we  were  there?  " 

"  No."  He  laid  his  hand  over  hers.  "  He  must 
have  reached  there  the  day  after  we  left,  though 
when  we  talked  I  didn't  think  that  we  had  passed 
through  there,  too." 

That  night  Beatrix  passing  Lee's  door  paused  and 
stood  listening.  Then  she  went  into  the  room.  Lee 
was  by  the  open  window.  She  stole  over  and  curved 
an  arm  about  her  shoulders.  Buf  Lee  did  not  speak 
and  her  hands  lay  loosely  in  her  lap.  After  a  little 
while  Beatrix  said,  "  Philip  tells  me  he  saw  David." 

The  hands  in  the  lap  closed  on  each  other.  "  Yes, 
he  told  me.  I  wish  David  knew  —  "  She  did  not 
say  what  it  was  she  wished  he  knew,  and  Beatrix 
did  not  ask  her.  But  a  little  later,  when  she  bent 
and  kissed  her  good  night,  Beatrix  whispered,  "  I 
am  going  out  to  Mrs.  Ives's  to-morrow  for  a  day  or 
two.  We  have  known  her  a  long  time,  and  I  know 

373 


THE       CAPTAIN 

she  hopes  I  will  come.  She  has  few  friends  here 
since  the  war  began.  She  has  a  son  with  the  North. 
Perhaps  I  can  find  a  way  to  let  David  know  what 
—  what  you  want,  dear." 

Except  for  the  uniforms  there  was  nothing  to 
speak  of  war  on  the  headquarters'  boat  at  Milliken's 
Bend  on  this  night.  Fiddles  were  squeaking,  bil- 
lowy skirts  swept  the  floor  of  the  main  cabin,  laugh- 
ing eyes  looked  up  into  their  partners'  faces.  The 
army  and  navy  had  joined  hands,  and  the  younger 
officers  were  in  their  glory.  The  country  round 
Vicksburg  might  be  under  water,  it  did  not  dampen 
the  gaiety  of  those  of  its  daughters  who  were  here 
to-night.  With  the  fair  visitors  from  up  the  river 
and  the  east,  they  found  squires,  a  dozen  apiece, 
whose  one  thought  was  to  forget  all  about  war  and 
its  duties  in  the  polka  and  the  waltz. 

Earlier  in  the  evening  healths  had  been  drunk. 
The  Captain,  lured  from  his  concealment  at  the  far 
end  of  the  room,  had  given  them  the  toast,  "  Lib- 
erty and  Lincoln,  God  gave  them  both  to  us.  Let 
us  fight  for  them."  Afterward  he  had  slipped  away, 
and  not  all  the  clapping  of  hands  brought  him  again 
to  the  front.  At  a  small  table  in  a  corner  of  the 
ladies'  cabin,  he  sat  himself  down  and  from  his 
pocket  pulled  a  map.  With  a  nencil  he  besran  to 
draw  lines.  A  few  daring  spirits  among  the  visit- 
ors ventured  into  his  retreat.  One  of  them  be- 

374 


THE       CAPTAIN 

sought  him  to  be  her  partner  in  the  Virginia  Reel 
just  forming.  "  My  dear  lady,"  he  answered,  "  I 
have  a  dance  here  of  my  own.  If  you  will  promise 
to  lead  me  through  that,  I  will  be  proud  to  be  your 
partner  now." 

"What  dance  is  it?"  she  inquired  and  peeped 
over  his  shoulder.  "  Oh  —  a  horrid  map !  " 

"  Yes,  a  map,"  he  said,  with  twinkling  eyes. 
"  And  I  am  trying  to  decide  upon  the  figures  for 
my  dance.  Are  you  ready  to  promise  your  assist- 
ance?" 

She  pouted.  "  I  know  a  way  into  Vicksburg," 
she  said.  "  But  only  a  woman  could  find  it.  The 
Southern  gentlemen  are  very  gallant."  Then  she 
turned  her  shoulder  on  the  Captain,  for  he  had 
discovered  something  on  his  map  of  great  interest, 
and  was  not  looking  at  her  at  all. 

An  hour  later  McPherson,  passing  the  door  in 
front  of  which  he  had  paused  many  times  before, 
stopped,  then  hastened  to  a  table  and  filled  a  glass 
with  champagne.  He  bore  it  in  to  the  Captain. 
"  You  are  wearing  yourself  out,"  he  said.  "  Drink 
this.  It  will  do  you  good.  Then  come  and  join  us." 

The  Captain  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  regarded 
his  friend  with  gravely  smiling  face.  "  Mac,"  he 
answered,  "  that  wine  won't  do  me  any  good.  I 
have  work  here.  If  you  will  be  of  service,  get 
me  half  a  dozen  cigars  —  big  ones.  They'll  be  the 

375 


THE       CAPTAIN 

best  help  I  can  have.  When  I've  finished  them,  per- 
haps, I'll  see  my  way  clear." 

•The  music  went  on,  midnight  struck  on  the  bells, 
and  still  he  sat,  drifts  of  smoke  about  his  head 
dropped  to  one  side,  his  shoulders  hunched  over  the 
table  where  the  papers  and  the  map  were  spread. 

Twice  David  came  in  to  see  him  and  went  away 
with  the  quiet  answer  in  his  ears,  "  Nobody  can  aid 
me  to  untangle  this.  Go  and  enjoy  yourself." 

But  David,  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself, 
found  little  pleasure  in  the  evening's  gaiety.  More 
than  once  it  had  been  impressed  upon  him  that  he 
was  a  graceless  partner  in  the  dance.  So  with  a 
gaze  that  took  small  account  of  the  smiling  faces  and 
softly  gleaming  shoulders  which  passed  and  repassed 
him,  he  stood  at  one  side  and  knew  that  he  would 
be  glad  when  it  was  all  over.  A  guilty  start  he  gave 
when  a  voice  behind  him  declared,  "  It  was  a  yawn 
that  time,  Captain  Ford.  I  was  watching,  and  I 
saw  it." 

He. faced  about.  "I  beg  your  pardon."  Then, 
"  Beatrix !  "  he  cried. 

She  curtsied.  "  Surely  it  is  Beatrix,  unless  I  have 
changed  my  name  with  my  gown." 

"  But  this  is  not  Vicksburg." 

"  No,  Vicksburg  is  down  the  river  a  piece.  That 
little  piece  of  water  which  you  want  so  badly,  so 
very  badly,  to  pass  over.  But  it  is  not  so  hard  to  go 
up-stream.  So  —  here  I  am." 

376 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  But  I  don't  understand." 

"  You  never  will.  It  is  sad,  too.  I  thought  you 
had  learned  something  that  evening  in  Corinth." 
A  smile  hovered  on  her  lips.  "  It  will  have  to 
satisfy  you  that  I  am  here,  the  guest  of  a  lady  who 
was  duly  invited  on  your  boat  this  evening.  I  am 
here  on  promise  of  good  behaviour.  So  you  need 
not  be  afraid  of  me." 

"  I  am  not  afraid.    But  —  " 

"  No  buts,"  she  warned.  "  Perhaps  I  came  be- 
cause we  were  tired  of  waiting  for  you  in  Vicks- 
burg.  Perhaps,  to  see  how  you  Yankees  dance." 

"  Then,"  said  David,  "  you  will  allow  me  to  show 
you  how  one  of  them  dances." 

"  No,  I  do  not  want  to  dance.  But  I  would  rather 
like  to  talk.  And  it  is  warm  here.  Do  not  boats 
have  decks  —  outside?  " 

He  offered  her  his  arm.  "  We  can  find  one,  I  am 
sure." 

But  after  they  had  discovered  a  place  to  her 
liking  and  he  was  standing  beside  her  near  the  rail, 
he  fell  into  a  silence  which  was  the  more  strange, 
since  she  began  to  talk  of  Lee,  and  there  were  many 
times  when  he  might  have  asked  her  what  was.  in 
his  mind.  She  told  him  of  Lee's  arrival,  and  he 
did  not  reply.  Of  her  father's  death,  and  he  said 
only,  "  Yes,  I  was  sure  of  that,"  and  turned  his 
face  away.  Then  she  began  to  speak  of  Philip, 
and  she  saw  his  face  again ;  and  to  herself  she  de- 

377 


THE       CAPTAIN 

clared,  "  I  knew  it !  I  knew  it !  "  Which  was  stranger 
still,  since  David  was  sure  face  never  told  less  than 
his  did  then.  He  was  looking  down  the  river  where, 
over  the  banks  of  the  great  bend,  now  and  then  a 
twinkling  light  shone  from  the  city;  and  her  voice 
seemed  to  come  from  far  off,  though  he  heard  every 
word. 

Then  he  was  aware  that  she  had  given  a  little 
cry  of  dismay,  and  he  shook  himself  free  of  his 
moodiness. 

"  It  was  nothing  after  all,"  she  told  him,  in 
answer  to  his  question.  "  I  was  rather  curious 
about  a  friend  of  yours  who  should  be  here.  And 
now  I  fear  it  is  too  late  to  have  you  point  him  out  to 
me." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  tall  man,  —  the  one  you  talk  about  so 
much.,  —  the  doctor." 

"Boone?  He  is  not  a  doctor  now.  He  has  a 
place  on  the  staff.  But  he  is  not  here.  He  went 
to  Memphis  two  days  ago." 

"  That  is  curious,"  she  said.  "  Always  in  some 
other  place.  Tell  me,  is  he  as  busy  as  ever?  The 
last  time,  you  remember,  it  was  the  same  way.  He 
could  not  spare  the  time  for  —  frivolities.  I  am 
beginning  to  think  —  " 

"  What  ?  "  asked  David,  when  she  halted,  and 
she  answered,  indolently,  "  That  he  does  not  exist." 

378 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  But  he  does.  He  is  very  real,  and  very  much  in 
earnest." 

"So?  So?"  She  laughed  doubtfully.  "  But  he 
must  be  very  different  from  most  men,  none  the 
less." 

"Why?" 

"  For  one  thing,  because  he  doesn't  care  for 
women's  company.  You  told  me —  What  was 
it?" 

David's  gaze  searched  her  face,  and  he  said, 
slowly,  "  There  is  one  woman.  I  believe  he  cares 
very  much  for  her.  But  she,  I  do  not  know  what  she 
thinks." 

Beatrix  leaned  her  chin  in  her  palms,  her  elbows 
on  the  rail,  her  face  turned  slightly  away  from  him, 
and  he  could  see  only  the  rounded  outline  of  her 
cheek  on  which  the  lashes  lay.  The  paddles  of  a 
steamer  beat  faintly  out  of  the  darkness  up-stream 
as  the  music  in  the  cabin  ceased;  then  came  a 
ripple  of  soft  laughter  from  the  cabin  and  the  hum 
of  conversation.  Yet  still  she  did  not  speak,  and 
he  said  (and  was  it  of  Boone  he  was  speaking?), 
"  If  a  woman  knew  that  a  man  loved  her,  Beatrix, 
could  she  not  forget  that  he  had  not  —  seen  some 
things  in  the  way  he  should  ?  " 

"  She  can  easily  enough  forget,"  she  answered, 
"  if  she  does  not  love  him.  But,  if  she  does  love 
him,  he  must  never  let  her  remember  that  there 

379 


THE       CAPTAIN 

was  a  yesterday  until  he  came.  He  must  show  that 
his  love  for  her  is  as  great  —  as  great  as  her  own." 

"  But  how  is  he  to  know  that  she  loves  him  when 
everything  is  against  him?  Perhaps,  some  one 
else,  another  man  who  loves  her,  is  with  her.  And 
she  may  be  where  —  where  he  cannot  go  to  her." 

She  dropped  her  hands  and  threw  her  head  far 
back.  Her  eyes  rested  on  him,  reproachful,  yet  the 
reproach  was  almost  tender.  "  David,"  she  said, 
"  David,  can't  you  answer  that  question  for  your- 
self? If  he  loves  her,  he  must  be  willing  to  risk 
something.  Look !  "  She  stretched  an  arm  toward 
the  twinkling  lights.  "  There  is  Vicksburg.  Your 
Captain  wants  the  city,  but  he  will  never  take  it  as 
he  is  doing  now.  And  your  man  is  something 
like  him.  Wishing,  worrying,  planning.  But  too 
prudent!  Too  prudent,  David!  What  is  a  rebuff! 
What  if  he  does  not  know  all  that  she  knows!  A 
woman  worth  having  is  worth  a  little  daring.  Love! 
David,  do  you  know  what  love  means  ?  When  your 
man  has  dared,  then  he  may  say  he  knows.  And 
maybe  he  will  learn  her  secret  then." 


380 


XXIV 

BY  WAY 

OF  THE  RIVER 

*  T  T  was  Boone  she  meant,"  David  told  himself 
when  she  was  gone.  "  I  was  right.  She  is 
the  girl.  And  I  must  let  him  know.  Of 
course  she  was  speaking  of  him."  A  dozen  times  he 
repeated  this  last  statement.  What  doubt  of  it 
could  there  be?  Yet  he  went  back  over  their  con- 
versation. An  absurd  idea  thrust  itself  upon  him, 
absurd  because  she  could  not  know  what  he  knew. 
It  drew  his  eyes  many  times  to  the  high  bluffs  raised 
above  the  nearer  banks  of  the  rolling,  muddy  river. 
It  put  questions  into  his  mind.  If  she  had  not  meant 
Boone — ?  But  what  was  the  use  of  conjuring 
such  possibilities  ?  The  fact  remained :  What  he 
learned  during  those  lonely  hours  in  the  hospital 
had  only  been  that  he  might  understand  more  clearly 
what  was  lost  to  him.  Vicksburg  might  stand  for 
ever  or  it  might  be  taken  to-morrow.  It  would 
not  change  this.  Yet — ?  Then  he  would  measure 
again  the  distance  to  the  city  with  its  tiers  of  earth- 
works, and  walk  away  to  plunge  into  the  work  which 

3?  i 


THE       CAPTAIN 

went  on  without  pause  along  the  sodden  levees  and 
in  the  flooded  fields  about  where  the  Union  army 
camped. 

They  were  heavy-handed,  many  of  those  water- 
soaked,  clay-smeared,  and  sweating  fellows,  and  no 
respecter  of  persons  when  dealing  with  the  enemy. 
They  foraged  on  the  land  wherever  it  raised  itself 
above  the  flood  and  there  was  anything  worth  taking. 
Sherman's  men,  it  was  said,  could  catch  and  skin  a 
hog  while  on  the  march  without  breaking  step.  A 
rough  humour  showed  itself  in  many  of  their  deal- 
ings. Boone  one  afternoon  piloted  a  lank,  lantern- 
jawed  Mississippian  to  headquarters.  The  visitor 
led  a  flea-bitten  mule  by  a  long  rope  halter,  and  had 
a  complaint  to  make.  Sherman  came  by  as  he  was 
repeating  it,  and  the  Captain  called  him  over. 
"  General,  this  man  complains  that  he  has  been 
robbed  of  almost  everything  he  owns.  He  says  your 
men  did  it." 

"  Nonsense."  Sherman  eyed  the  man  severely. 
"  What  do  you  say  has  been  taken  ?  " 

"  G'n'ral,  they've  done  tuk  everything.  First 
they  stole  ma  ducks  an'  chick-ens.  Then  they  come 
an'  robbed  ma  tater  hole.  Th'  other  night  ma  hawgs 
begun  t'  sque-a/  and  foah  I  could  get  thyar,  nothin' 
wuz  left,  seh,  but  th'  troughs  they  aten  outa.  It  wuz 
bright  'nough,  G'n'ral,  fur  t'  see  th'  soldiers  run- 
nin'  away." 

Under   Sherman's   observation   at   that   moment 

382 


THE       CAPTAIN 

something  transpired  which  made  his  face  grow 
stern,  then  relax.  "  You  saw  them,  did  you?  Well, 
did  you  see  the  hogs  ?  " 

"  No,  seh.  But  they  done  hev  them  somewhar 
'bout  them,  fur  they  wuz  go-an.  Why,  G'n'ral," 
fingering  the  frayed  ends  of  the  halter,  "  they'd 
have  tuk  ma  ole  mu-el  'f  I  hadn't  done  brought  't 
'long  with  me  t'day." 

"What  mule?" 

"  Why,  this  hyar  one."  The  Mississippian  turned 
about  and  pointed  with  a  bony  finger.  Then  his 
jaw  fell,  and  he  remained  fixed  in  astonishment,  his 
eyes  bulging.  From  his  hand  the  long  halter  ran 
to  a  small  tree  near  by,  and  there  its  end  was  looped 
on  a  branch.  From  his  gaping  mouth  came  a 
hollow  sound.  "  I'll  be  damned  'f  they  ain't  done 
tuk  th'  mu-el,"  he  groaned. 

But  if  they  took  from  those  who  had,  and  some- 
times left  little  behind  them,  they  spared  many 
whose  little  meant  much  to  its  owners,  and  the  Cap- 
tain drove  this  lesson  in  with  a  discipline  which  was 
inexorable.  They  saw  him  do  things,  too,  which 
worked  more  good  with  them  than  did  any  regu- 
lation; but  these  things  he  did  in  a  fashion  of  his 
own. 

Riding  one  day  past  a  tumble-down  cabin,  a 
woman  came  out  and  stood  by  the  doorway  gazing 
at  them  silently.  Her  face,  sallow  and  peaked,  was 
lined  with  fever  marks.  A  child  clutched  at  her 

383 


THE       CAPTAIN 

skirts,  and  deep  hollows  were  beneath  its  eyes.  The 
Captain  looked  down  at  the  woman,  and  rode  on. 
But  half  a  mile  away  he  told  Boone  to  go  back  and 
inquire  about  the  woman.  Boone  reported  that  her 
husband  had  served  with  the  Confederates  until  he 
was  brought  home  wounded  and  sick.  They  were 
miserably  poor. 

"  Send  back  a  guard  to  protect  the  cabin,"  the 
Captain  ordered. 

A  minute  later  he  spoke  again,  "  Send  a  surgeon 
to  see  what  can  be  done  for  the  sick  man." 

Hardly  was  the  order  delivered  when  he  com- 
manded, "  And  see  that  a  dozen  rations  go  with  the 
surgeon.  They  can't  live  without  food." 

The  following  day  a  newspaper  correspondent 
inquired  about  the  incident.  The  Captain's  memory, 
it  seemed,  did  not  serve  him  so  far. 

Perhaps  he  had  done  this  in  one  of  those  spells 
of  irresponsibility  of  which  his  enemies  at  Wash- 
ington continued  to  complain.  They  urged  his 
removal  again  and  again,  and  the  tall,  lank  man 
who  watched  over  all  with  patient,  sorrowful  eyes, 
and  whose  hand  held  forgiveness  always  for  South 
and  North  alike,  asked  them,  "  Why  should  he  be 
removed  ?  " 

"  Because  he  drinks  too  much." 

Then  the  shadow  lifted  a  moment  from  those 
wonderful  eyes,  and  their  owner  replied,  "  Is  it  so  ? 
I  have  been  wondering  a  long  time  where  he  got 

384 


THE       CAPTAIN 

his  whiskey.  Can  you  tell  me?  I  should  like  to 
send  a  barrel  of  the  same  kind  to  each  of  our  gen- 
erals." 

If  the  Captain  drank  too  much,  those  who  were 
about  him  did  not  know  it.  Yet  silent  he  always 
was,  except  when  he  had  something  to  say,  and  then 
it  was  seldom  about  himself  he  spoke. 

He  walked  and  rode  among  them,  solid,  erect, 
spattered  with  day,  his  hat  pulled  down  and  bat- 
tered, his  head  most  often  dropped  a  little  forward, 
his  bearded  lips  closed,  his  eyes  grave  but  missing 
few  things  which  they  should  see.  And  the  word 
would  pass  along,  "  The  old  man  is  coming." 
Straightway  men  forgot  that  they  were  standing 
knee-deep  in  mud  and  that  their  shoulders  ached, 
and  that  smallpox  and  fever  cut  them  down,  and 
that  there  was  hardly  a  dry  spot  to  lay  a  coffin  in. 

So  the  spring  came,  and  still  Vicksburg  was  on 
the  east  bank,  the  Captain  on  the  west  bank  of  the 
Mississippi.  A  mile  of  river  flowed  between,  and 
mile  on  mile  of  tangled  bayous  and  creeks  and  tinv 
bered  swamps  defied  his  efforts  on  the  east  and 
north.  The  river  itself  rose  in  a  night  and  ended 
the  labour  of  days  and  days  which  had  been  put 
upon  another  plan  to  get  the  gunboats  and  trans- 
ports behind  the  city.  In  Washington,  told  of  this 
latest  failure,  the  President  answered  those  who 
besieged  him  to  remove  so  incompetent  a  com- 

385 


THE       CAPTAIN 

mander,  "  No,  I  have  a  sort  of  liking  for  him.  I 
will  try  him  a  little  longer." 

The  Captain,  studying  the  river's  work  that 
day,  pulled  at  his  beard  and  pondered.  When  he 
turned  away,  a  steely  glint  was  in  his  eyes.  That 
same  night  he  called  his  generals  and  engineers  to- 
gether. "  I  have  another  plan  for  getting  at  the 
city,"  he  said.  "  We  will  use  the  canal  which  is 
already  dug  for  us." 

Sherman  wrinkled  his  brows.    "  Which  is  that  ?  " 

"  The  river  itself.  Protect  our  boats  with  cotton 
bales  and  whatever  else  will  do,  and  run  the  bat- 
teries. One  boat  has  done  it.  It  can  be  done 
again." 

Sherman's  astonishment  burst  into  speech.  "  Take 
a  fleet  of  those  paper-shell  craft  past  the  banks  of 
big  guns  —  at  short  range !  They  would  stand  no 
chance  at  all.  Riddled  ?  They'd  be  sunk  before  they 
were  clear  of  the  bend." 

The  Captain  heard  and  was  silent.  One  after 
another  of  the  council  condemned  the  suggestion, 
and  his  lips  only  closed  tighter  on  the  cigar.  When 
they  had  finished  he  said,  quietly,  "  I  have  not 
changed  my  mind.  Be  prepared  to  move  down  the 
river." 

Sherman  remained  to  remonstrate.  "  I  shall  give 
my  heartiest  support  to  whatever  move  you  order, 
but  I  believe  it  is  my  duty  to  put  my  protest  in  writ- 
ing!" 

386 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Send  along  your  protest,"  answered  the  Captain, 
with  a  smile.  The  letter  was  sent.  Months  after- 
ward the  Captain  drew  the  letter  from  his  pocket 
and  returned  it  to  its  writer.  The  seal  was  un- 
broken. "  Here  is  something  to  interest  you,"  he 
remarked.  Things  had  happened  in  the  interval 
which  made  Sherman  twist  his  mouth  over  the  letter 
in  a  wry  grin. 

"  It  is  a  mistake,"  Boone  declared  to  David,  as 
they  stood  by  the  brink  of  the  Yazoo  and  watched 
Porter's  men  at  work  on  the  steamers.  "  Very  few 
of  those  boats  will  get  below  the  city." 

"  Why  do  they  say  that  ?  The  Queen  of  the  West 
went  through." 

"  By  sheer  luck  and  audacity.  The  Confederates 
are  better  prepared  now.  I  know  a  little  about 
Vicksburg,  and  look  at  those  bluffs !  " 

It  was  David's  opportunity.  "  A  girl  once  told 
me,"  he  said,  slowly,  —  "a  Vicksburg  girl  she  was, 
—  that  her  city  would  never  be  taken  by  waiting  and 
wishing,  as  she  put  it.  She  made  a  curious  com- 
parison, of  a  man  in  love  with  a  woman.  Some- 
thing had  sent  him  away  from  her,  and  —  well,  she 
said  this  woman  could  not  mean  much  to  him." 
Boone  gave  one  quick  look  at  David's  face,  then  was 
staring  out  over  the  river.  He  made  no  reply. 
"And  she  was  right,"  David  added.  "The  man 
is  unfair  to  himself  and  to  her." 

387 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"What  chance  has  he?"  Boone  said,  sharply. 
"Tell  me,  what  chance?" 

"  Beatrix  said,"  returned  David,  "  that  the 
woman,  if  she  were  the  man,  would  not  ask  that. 
That,  if  her  love  was  worth  having,  it  was  worth 
daring  something  for." 

Boone's  face  came  about  swiftly,  and  his  lips 
parted.  But  as  abruptly  he  looked  away  again,  and 
when  he  spoke  it  was  deliberately.  "  Perhaps  you 
are  right."  His  voice  as  much  as  his  words  forbade 
David  to  go  on,  and  for  awhile  neither  of  them 
spoke.  Then  Boone  began  to  talk  again  of  running 
the  batteries,  and  of  what  was  being  done  to  prepare 
for  it.  "  These  volunteers  for  the  transports,"  he 
said.  "  I  asked  to-day  to  be  allowed  to  go  down  on 
one  of  the  steamers.  But  they  have  enough  men 
already.  It  is  my  luck." 

"  Mine  is  better,"  David  returned.  "  I  applied 
two  days  ago.  To-day  I  was  assigned  to  the  Henry 
Clay." 

Boone  swung  on  his  heel,  and  gripped  his  com- 
panion's shoulders.  "  Some  day,"  he  said,  "  I  will 
know  you  as  you  are.  Forgive  me." 

The  gunboats  with  their  convoy  of  steamers 
dropped  into  the  current  of  the  Mississippi  one  dark 
night  in  April,  and,  from  a  transport  anchored  in 
midstream  as  far  down  as  was  safe,  Boone  stood 
behind  the  Captain,  and  saw  that  wonderful  sight, 

388 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  tried  to  make  out  the  dim  shape  of  the  steamer 
Henry  Clay,  where  David  was,  long  after  she  had 
been  swallowed  up  by  the  night. 

First  a  row  of  dark  bulks  emerging  from  the 
shadows  of  the  banks  above  and  floating  fast  down 
and  into  the  shadows,  a  glowworm  of  a  lamp  now 
and  then  sending  back  its  winking  message  to  the 
boat  next  astern.  An  orchestra  of  frogs  cheeping 
and  strumming  from  the  nearest  bank.  Except  for 
this,  silence  above  and  below,  and  the  loom  of  the 
dark  banks  where  the  city  hung  in  its  great  nest 
of  forts  unbroken  by  a  point  of  light.  They  spoke 
in  hushed  voices  around  the  Captain.  Once  a  chair 
was  knocked  to  the  deck,  and  they  softly  cursed  the 
offender.  To  them  hours  seemed  to  pass  while  that 
straggling,  little  fleet,  hay  and  cotton  bales  stacked 
along  its  guards  and  about  its  boilers,  dropped  down- 
stream, Porter  in  the  Benton  showing  the  way.  It 
seemed  that  sleep  had  fallen  on  the  five  miles  of 
battery-crested  heights. 

Then  a  spark  of  light  glowed  on  the  bluffs  and 
rose  in  the  air,  trailing  a  faint,  luminous  line  across 
the  sky,  and  burst  into  a  tiny  shower  of  sparks.  At 
the  signal  a  jet  of  orange  flame  leaped  from  the  bank 
far  beyond,  and  before  the  report  had  travelled  to 
the  Captain's  ear,  came  another  flash,  then  a  sheet 
of  fire.  Then  along  the  banks  above,  below,  and 
where  the  batteries  shook  the  city  itself,  the  Vicks- 
burg  cannoneers  loosed  their  guns.  Opposite  the 

389 


THE       CAPTAIN 

city  a  house  sprang  into  a  blaze,  and  another,  and 
then  an  old  hulk  near  the  Louisiana  shore.  Ribbons 
of  rosy  light  were  unrolled  upon  the  stream.  The 
gunboats  and  steamers,  the  black  smoke  pouring 
from  their  funnels,  were  uncovered.  The  batteries 
flamed  from  end  to  end.  From  the  river  came  an 
answer  now,  the  guns  of  the  fleet.  Flashes  sprang 
from  every  gun  they  could  bring  to  bear,  and  thick 
white  smoke  rolled  out  to  be  seamed  with  lightning- 
bolts,  and  the  thunder  was  a  continuous,  mighty 
roar. 

"  The  boats  can  never  live  under  that,"  said  an 
officer. 

Boone  shook  his  head.  But  the  stocky  figure  be- 
fore him  was  motionless  except  for  a  rocking  of  the 
head  now  and  then  or  a  shifting  of  the  cigar  in  the 
lips  which  held  it  so  tightly.  Once  he  asked  a  ques- 
tion, "Where  do  you  place  the  Benton  now?" 
And  some  one  answered,  "  Below  the  lowest  battery, 
by  her  fire."  The  Captain  nodded. 

But  suddenly  a  bright  light  sprang  upon  the 
river's  surface  and  grew,  and  above  it  rose  a  great 
volume  of  smoke.  The  Captain  spoke  again, 
sharply,  "  What  steamer  is  that  on  fire?  " 

"  It  ought  to  be  the  Henry  Clay  by  her  position." 

Boone  gripped  the  rail  and  declared  it  could  not 
be.  The  Henry  Clay  must  be  much  further  down- 
stream. Why,  the  gunboat  Tuscumbia  was  further 

390 


THE       CAPTAIN 

down,  as  any  one  could  see  by  the  flash  of  her  guns. 
And  she  had  been  the  last  vessel  to  start. 

The  Captain  heard  him,  but  did  not  answer. 
Presently,  when  the  blazing  hulk  veered  toward  the 
Mississippi  shore,  and  they  could  see  that  the  firing 
from  the  gunboats  was  now  all  below  her,  he  said 
over  his  shoulder  to  Boone,  "  They  have  had  time 
enough  to  get  off  of  her.  I  believe  they  are  all  on 
land  by  now." 

While  he  spoke  the  flashes  from  the  nearest  bat- 
teries became  less  frequent.  Steadily  silence  and 
darkness  moved  down-stream  along  the  city's  front, 
and  soon  only  the  lowest  guns  were  firing.  The 
blaze  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  died  down,  the 
flare  on  the  sky  paled.  The  thunder  rolled  sullenly 
but  dully.  There  was  a  moment's  hush,  a  single 
gush  of  fire  and  a  dull  report  that  echoed  again  and 
again.  Then  silence  profound  fell  on  the  river. 
The  seconds  ticked  off,  not  a  man  stirred  on  the 
boat  where  the  Captain  stood.  Across  the  water 
came  the  faint  peep  of  a  frog.  Some  one  spoke,  "  It 
is  all  over !  " 

The  next  morning  they  knew  that  the  entire  fleet 
had  passed  the  batteries  in  safety  except  the  Henry 
Clay.  She  had  been  disabled  and  set  on  fire.  Her 
crew  had  taken  to  the  boats.  One  yawl  had  been 
upset,  and  four  men  and  an  officer  who  were  in  it 
had  not  yet  reported. 

39 i 


XXV 

»  f^> 

L.OME 
AND  TAKE  ME" 

THE  ball  which  Colonel  Wilson  of  the  Vicks- 
burg  garrison  was  to  give  had  been  talked 
of  for  a  week.  To-night  it  was  to  be,  and 
Beatrix  was  going.  In  front  of  the  glass  of  the 
old  walnut  bureau  she  sat,  and  behind  her  stood 
Lee  combing  and  piling  the  rippling  coils  of  ruddy 
hair.  "  Beatrix,"  she  said,  "  you  will  meet  some  one 
to-night.  I  wonder  what  you  will  say  to  him." 

"  Now,  I  wonder  ?    What  will  he  say  to  me  ?  " 

"  What  he  has  been  saying  every  time  he  sees  you. 
What  he  said  coming  home  from  church  last  Sun- 
day. It  is  no  secret." 

Beatrix  tilted  her  chin  and  surveyed  herself  in  the 
glass.  She  curved  a  rounded  bare  arm  and  twirled 
with  a  finger-tip  a  tiny  curl  on  the  nape  of  her  neck. 
"  Dear  me,"  she  said,  "  what  a  dreadfully  long 
memory  you  have." 

"  Not  as  long  as  his.  How  long  is  His  memory, 
Beatrix?  When  I  was  here  before  it  was  the  same 
way."  She  stepped  to  one  side  and  stood  with  head 

392 


THE       CAPTAIN 

cocked  critically.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  I  am  quite  sure 
he  will  never  let  you  leave  him  to-night  until  he  has 
his  answer.  If  you  could  see  yourself  —  " 

"  Fiddlesticks ! "  exclaimed  Beatrix.  Then, 
wearily,  "  Oh,  how  tired  I  am  of  myself !  As  to 
him  —  "  She  paused.  "  Lee,"  she  finished,  "  I  do 
not  think  Major  Carson  will  be  at  the  party  to-night. 
He  went  to  Warrenton  —  right  after  our  walk  on 
Sunday  last.  I  do  not  expect  to  see  him  again." 

"  Oh !  "  breathed  Lee.  "  I  did  not  know  that. 
I  am  —  very  sorry." 

Beatrix  sat  up  straightly.  "Why?"  she  chal- 
lenged. "  Why  should  you  be  sorry  ?  Not  for  me, 
surely.  And  it  was  all  his  fault.  He  was  so  per- 
sistent, so  blind.  How  I  hate  him !  "  She  clinched 
a  hand  vindictively.  But  something  which  was 
neither  in  her  voice  nor  words  made  Lee  look  at  her 
closely,  and  ask,  "  Blind  to  what  ?  " 

"  Why,  blind  to  how  I  felt  toward  him,  of  course." 

Lee  came  close  and  slid  an  arm  around  the  bare 
shoulders.  "  No,"  she  corrected,  softly,  "  not  to 
that.  But  blind  to  how  you  felt  about  —  some  one 
else.  Isn't  that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

Then,  when  the  colour  should  have  flooded  Bea- 
trix's cheeks,  instead  what  was  there  fled,  and  with 
very  fair  precision  she  asserted,  "  No,  no,  you  are 
wrong  —  utterly  wrong." 

But  Lee  persisted.  "  Am  I  ?  You  know  I  am 
not.  Why,  I  have  seen  him.  Don't  you  remember 

393 


THE       CAPTAIN 

that  night  our  horses  ran  away  on  the  Gravois  road  ? 
Don't  you  remember  the  man  who  stopped  them? 
You  —  " 

"Well,  what  did  I  do?  Tell  me!  I  have  for- 
gotten. No,  no,  you  need  not  tell  me,  either.  I 
do  not  want  to  remember."  A  moment  she  halted, 
then,  with  chin  very  high,  "  He  is  a  Yankee !  A 
Yankee,  you  understand !  Is  not  that  enough  ?  " 

"  Is  it?  "  asked  Lee.  "  Is  it  enough?  You  know 
that  it  isn't.  Won't  you  trust  me?  "  But  Beatrix's 
eyes  were  set  upon  the  glass  and  her  lips  were  pressed 
together.  Lee  leaned  forward  until  her  face  was 
close.  "  Beatrix,"  she  whispered,  "  you  went  across 
the  river  one  night  not  long  ago.  Why  was  that  ?  " 

Then  the  gaze  of  the  wilful  eye  was  shaken. 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  night  ?  " 

"  The  night,"  said  Lee,  gently,  "  that  you  were 
visiting  Mrs.  Ives.  Yes,  I  know  about  it.  Her 
servants  told  old  Caesar,  and  I  overheard  him  talking 
next  day.  Did  you  go  to  that  Union  party,  Beatrix, 
because  you  had  forgotten?"  There  was  a  little 
silence,  and  she  urged,  "  Dear,  tell  me  all  about  it, 
won't  you  ?  I  want  to  help  you.  And  I  can  under- 
stand." 

But  when  Beatrix  spoke  she  was  smiling,  "  Yes, 
I  went  there,"  she  said,  lightly.  "  I  had  the  invita- 
tion from  Mr.  Ives,  and  I  reckoned  I'd  have  a  right 
good  time.  And,  perhaps,  I  had.  There  was  a  man 

394 


THE       CAPTAIN 

there  who  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  and  —  yours.  We 
talked  about  Gravois.    He  asked  about  you." 

"David!"  Did  Lee's  lips  fashion  the  name? 
The  comb  slipped  from  her  fingers  and  slid  to  the 
floor.  She  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  then  walked 
across  the  room  and  laid  it  on  a  table.  There  she 
straightened  a  photograph,  a  mirror,  and  a  tray,  and 
all  the  while  she  said  nothing.  But  when  she  turned 
it  was  to  come  to  where  Beatrix  sat,  and  say,  quietly, 
"  I  was  wrong  to  ask  so  much.  Forgive  me." 

Midnight  struck  and  to  Lee  it  had  never  seemed  so 
still,  though  in  the  magnolia-trees  close  to  the  win- 
dow a  legion  of  insects  shrilled  incessantly.  Twice 
she  heard  'Lias  pass  the  house,  humming  a  planta- 
tion song.  A  faint  sound  of  contention  came  from 
the  quarters.  Then  all  was  quiet,  and  she  lay,  star- 
ing at  the  ceiling  with  wide  open  eyes.  At  the  ball 
by  now  she  imagined  that  they  must  be  having 
supper.  Beatrix  would  not  return  for  two  hours. 
She  tried  to  drive  away  the  thoughts  which  would 
not  let  her  sleep,  and  she  was  slipping  into  slumber 
when  the  air  quivered  with  a  rumbling  echo,  and  she 
started  up  in  bed.  In  a  moment  it  rolled  again,  and 
she  leaned  forward,  listening.  There  had  been  some 
firing  for  several  nights;  but,  now,  the  thunder  of 
continuous  cannonading  grew  heavier,  and  she  got 
up  quickly  and  slipped  on  a  gown.  Out  on  the 

395 


THE       CAPTAIN 

veranda  she  stepped,  and  the  rattling  explosions 
made  her  shrink. 

Some  one  ran  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  and 
'Lias's  voice  called.  The  Union  forces  were  firing 
on  the  river-front  of  the  city.  But  there  was  no 
danger.  Miss  Celia  came  hurrying  out.  She  heard 
the  explanation.  She  snapped  a  finger.  "  It  will 
soon  be  over,"  she  declared.  "  The  Yankees  will  be 
driven  back  into  their  swamps !  " 

But  the  firing  continued  and  every  minute  it  grew 
heavier.  From  the  end  of  the  veranda  through  the 
vines  they  could  see  a  flare  in  the  sky  over  the  river, 
and  into  this  field  of  light  from  the  darkness  beyond 
soared  curving  lines  of  brighter  fire,  meteors  which 
dropped  fast  and  burst,  some  of  them  in  mid-air, 
with  sharp  detonations.  The  servants  crowded  to 
the  porch  below,  and  Miss  Celia  went  down  to  reas- 
sure them.  Her  contempt  for  anything  which  the 
Yankees  might  do  was  more  effective  than  all  the 
words  of  comfort  she  could  have  spoken.  She  re- 
turned to  the  porch,  announcing  that,  for  her  part, 
she  would  go  back  to  bed.  But  she  lingered,  none 
the  less ;  and  by  and  by  the  firing,  which  had  trav- 
elled to  the  south,  slackened,  and  between  two  re- 
ports they  heard  the  sound  of  a  carriage  driven  fast 
toward  the  house. 

Lee  was  sure  that  a  sigh  of  relief  came  from  Miss 
Celia  as  Beatrix  answered  the  call.  Yes,  she  called 

396 


THE       CAPTAIN 

back,  she  was  all  right.  Then  she  came  up  on 
the  veranda. 

Miss  Celia  on  the  instant  was  herself  again. 
"  Well,  I  trust  the  Yankees  will  remember  this 
night's  lesson ! " 

Beatrix  flung  the  wrap  from  her  shoulders. 
"  The  Yankee  fleet,"  she  answered,  "  has  passed  our 
forts  and  gone  down  river.  All  but  one  boat. 
We  set  that  on  fire.  I  hear  we  captured  two  men. 
Think  of  it!  Two!" 

Her  aunt  snorted.  "  It  is  so,"  Beatrix  affirmed. 
"  Oh !  it  was  shameful !  Some  of  our  cannons,  they 
say,  were  useless.  The  whole  city  is  in  the  streets." 

"  For  what?  "  demanded  Miss  Celia.  "  I  should 
like  to  know  for  what !  Where  have  you  been  ?  In 
the  street,  too?" 

Beatrix  burst  into  a  laugh.  "  Exactly,  I  was 
driven  into  the  street.  I  could  not  help  myself. 
I  was  almost  crushed.  When  the  first  shell  dropped 
near  by  everybody  rushed  out  of  the  room.  Some 
fool  said  we  were  not  safe  indoors,  and  all  the  women 
ran  pell-mell  to  the  pavement.  The  men  could  not 
stop  them.  I  was  dragged  along  by  a  girl  who  was 
frightened  half  to  death.  I  never  saw  such  a  ridicu- 
lous sight.  Another  shell  came  over,  and  somebody 
shrieked,  '  Lie  down !  Lie  down,  quick ! '  That  was 
enough.  Every  woman  dropped  right  down  in  the 
dust.  Oh !  "  with  another  burst  of  vexed  laughter, 
"  it  was  the  most  absurd  proceeding  ever  was. 

397 


THE       CAPTAIN 

At  last  I  found  a  man  who  had  sense  enough  left 
to  escort  me  back  to  Colonel  Wilson's,  and  there 
I  had  a  time  finding  Caesar.  He  was  hidden  in  a 
cellar  with  most  of  the  other  servants.  When  I  did 
find  him  I  could  hardly  persuade  him  to  bring  round 
the  carriage.  We  came  home  most  of  the  way  on 
two  wheels." 

Miss  Celia  rose  in  her  wrath.  "  The  Yankees 
passed  our  forts !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  do  not  believe 
they  did.  I  shall  order  the  carriage  to-morrow 
morning  and  learn  the  truth  for  myself.  The 
Yankees!  Stuff  and  nonsense!"  With  that  she 
swept  from  the  veranda. 

But  the  next  day  she  returned  from  her  drive  too 
indignant  to  communicate  her  news.  Philip  came 
hurrying  to  the  house  late  in  the  afternoon.  "  Yes," 
he  said,  "  all  the  Yankee  gunboats  and  all  of  the 
transports  with  them,  except  one,  passed  down 
the  river  safely."  The  steamer  which  had  been  dis- 
abled had  burned  to  her  guards.  Her  crew  got  away 
in  small  boats.  He  believed  that  one  of  these  boats 
had  been  upset.  Two  men  had  been  taken  from  the 
river.  That  was  all.  The  Union  fleet,  it  was 
thought,  would  attack  below  the  city,  and  try  to 
land  the  troops  which  were  marching  down  along 
the  opposite  bank.  He  was  ordered  to  Warrenton. 

Miss  Celia  retired  into  the  fortifications  of  silence 
that  evening,  and  refused  to  be  drawn  out  by 
Philip's  account  of  what  was  being  done  to  prepare 

398 


THE       CAPTAIN 

against  an  attack.  Beatrix  asked  many  questions, 
and  Lee  tried  to  do  her  part.  But  it  became  harder 
for  her  to  speak  as  the  meal  drew  to  a  close,  and  she 
knew  that  Philip  would  soon  be  leaving,  for  how 
long  he  could  not  tell. 

There  was  to  be  fighting,  of  course.  That  he 
knew.  So,  when  he  rose  and  kissed  his  aunt  and 
Beatrix,  and  came  around  the  table  to  where  she  sat, 
she  did  not  move.  She  gave  him  her  hand,  and 
"  Good-bye,"  she  said,  faintly,  then  drew  her  fingers 
away. 

He  stooped  and  picked  up  something  from  the 
floor,  and  for  a  moment  stood  beside  her.  She  knew 
he  was  hoping  she  would  go  to  the  door  with  him. 
But  she  could  not  do  that ;  and  when  he  understood 
that  she  was  not  going,  and  saw  his  aunt  about 
to  rise,  he  said,  quickly,  "  No,  no  one  must  come  out. 
It  would  be  bad  luck.  Good-bye  again,"  and  walked 
to  the  doorway.  There  he  paused,  and  only  Lee 
saw  him  raise  something  to  his  lips.  It  was  her 
handkerchief,  and  above  it  his  eyes  rested  on  hers, 
—  so  gaily,  yet  so  tenderly.  Then  he  was  gone. 

April  went  by  and  the  May  days  came,  and 
Vicksburg,  girdled  with  hills,  became  a  city  of  caves. 
From  below  had  marched  a  great  army,  and  slowly 
it  wound  its  way  north  and  about  the  city  till  it 
held  it  tightly  in  its  immense  folds.  Jackson,  the 
place  from  which  help  was  to  come,  was  captured  by 

399 


THE       CAPTAIN 

a  move  which  set  the  whole  military  world  agog. 
Johnston,  the  expected  deliverer,  was  driven  back. 
Then  Vicksburg  knew  it  must  fight  its  own  battle, 
and  with  grim  resolution  settled  in  its  semicircle  of 
entrenchments.  Within  the  city  the  people  turned 
themselves  into  moles.  Day  and  night  the  digging 
went  on,  and  burrows  soon  were  at  every  corner  and 
by  the  sides  of  houses,  and  in  the  face  of  every  hilly 
street.  In  these  was  the  only  safety  from  the  whir- 
ring shells  and  blasts  of  grape  which  sped  from  the 
hills  on  the  south  and  the  east  and  the  north  and 
again  from  the  river  itself.  On  the  slope  of  the 
city  eastward  where  the  few  houses  were  half-buried 
in  the  thick  foliage  of  trees,  and  pink  myrtles  and 
magnolias  scented  the  air,  and  the  passion-vine  clus- 
tered over  porches  and  roses  bloomed,  —  there  the 
ravines  and  the  nearer  hills  were  a  shield  at  first, 
and  those  who  lived  there  knew  only  by  the  riven 
tree-trunks  and  the  torn  earth  in  some  open  spot 
how  near  was  death  to  their  doorsteps.  Beatrix 
and  Lee  and  Miss  Celia  could  hear  the  sigh  and 
whistle  of  what  the  Union  guns  launched  from  their 
throats  a  mile  away,  yet  in  the  shadow  of  the  ridge 
which  rose  steeply  behind  them  remained  secure. 

But  Beatrix  would  not  be  penned  in.  Long  after 
Miss  Celia's  scorn  of  Yankee  achievements  broke 
down  under  the  strain  of  sleepless  nights  and  scenes 
of  fright  and  death  and  she  weakly  retired  to  her 
room  with  her  prayer-book,  Beatrix  dared  to  make 

40O 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  journey  to  the  city.  She  had  volunteered  for 
service  in  the  hospitals.  Each  day  these  became 
more  crowded,  though  the  mounting  heat  and  dis- 
ease and  poor  food  emptied  scores  of  beds  in  a  night ; 
and  the  work  kept  her  always  busy.  But  what  a 
nurse  she  was !  No  hand  more  gentle  or  step  more 
light  than  hers,  and  she  smoothed  many  a  pillow  and 
raised  many  a  head  with  a  tenderness  which  brought 
a  smile  to  unshaven  lips.  Of  words,  though,  it  is  to 
be  feared,  she  had  few  which  were  heard  from  other 
nurses.  And  once  the  old  surgeon  beckoned  to  her. 
His  face  was  grave,  though  something  twitched  his 
lips.  And,  "  Miss  Pemberton,"  he  said,  "  if  I  might 
suggest.  Those  boys  have  done  their  righting  for  the 
present.  Wait  till  we  get  them  out  of  bed.  Then 
you  can  start  them  at  it  again,  and  no  one  could 
make  them  do  more  then,  I  know." 

Beatrix  flushed.  Perhaps  she  remembered  the  ad- 
vice. At  least,  the  next  day,  one  broad-shouldered, 
wasted  young  fellow  with  bandaged  shoulder  raised 
himself  on  his  good  arm  to  call  to  the  surgeon, 
"  Hey,  there,  doctor,  we  ain't  done  been  whipped 
again,  have  we?"  and  to  the  surgeon's  surprised 
"  no,"  explained,  "  I  done  reckon  sho'  we  had,  when 
thet  fightin'  nurse  a  mine  come  'long  an'  was  so 
quiet.  She  ain't  got  no  call  t'  be  that  quiet,  doctor. 
It  makes  th'  boys  feel  pow'rful  down-hearted." 
Beatrix !  Beatrix !  How  often  did  you  and  your  sis- 
ters of  the  South  put  fire  into  the  breasts  of  those 

4OI 


THE       CAPTAIN 

gallant,  weary,  ragged  fellows  who  fought  under 
your  flag. 

But  the  sick  and  wounded  who  were  brought  in 
from  the  lines  were  not  the  only  ones  who  needed 
a  nurse,  and  the  care  of  one  of  these  fell  on  Lee. 
A  great  heat  laid  hold  of  the  city  as  June  came  in, 
and  Miss  Celia  succumbed  to  it,  and  Lee  chose  to 
stay  by  her.  So,  day  after  day  she  spent  in  the 
room  with  darkened  windows,  and  sometimes  read 
and  sometimes  talked  to  the  old  lady,  now  become 
querulous  and  impatient,  until  she  fell  asleep. 
While  her  patient  slept  she  would  steal  out,  and  on 
the  veranda  sit  and  watch  the  hills  to  the  south 
and  north,  which  ever  breathed  fire  and  smoke. 
More  than  once  with  Beatrix  she  had  travelled  over 
the  Jackson  road  to  the  city,  and  up  the  little  hill 
between  the  rows  of  oaks  to  the  court-house,  and 
climbed  its  narrow  stairway  to  the  railed  balcony 
which  ran  around  the  cupola  beneath  the  bell-tower. 
It  was  from  there  she  had  first  seen  the  smoke  of  the 
Union  fleet,  lying  heavily  upon  the  lowlands.  And 
in  these  later  days  over  the  hills  and  across  the  river 
an  encampment  was  spread  out,  the  tents  dotting 
every  piece  of  dry  ground  among  the  plantations, 
while  along  the  river  were  strung  the  steamers  and 
the  squat,  ugly  hulks  of  the  gunboats.  But  down 
the  river,  to  where  it  made  its  abrupt  sweep  north- 
ward again,  around  the  tongue  of  land  opposite 
the  city  that  great  host  of  men  in  blue  soon  pushed 

402 


T.    HE       CAPTAIN 

its  way;  and  mounted  guns  on  the  Louisiana  shore; 
and  even  the  heights  of  Sky  Parlour  Hill,  up  whose 
steep  steps  climbed  a  swarm  of  sightseers  on  every 
clear  day,  became  a  danger  spot.  After  that,  when 
she  was  able  to  evade  the  vigilance  of  'Lias,  Lee  ven- 
tured beyond  the  shelter  of  the  hills  only  to  walk 
along  the  lane  which  wound  in  the  hollows  between 
near-by  ridges. 

But  there  were  other  dangers,  and  the  hills  gave 
no  comfort  from  these.  Hunger !  It  was  spoken  of 
in  April  as  a  far-away  thing,  an  incident  of  cele- 
brated sieges.  In  May  it  was  something  to  be  con- 
sidered. In  June  Vicksburg  knew  what  it  meant. 
Within  the  compass  of  his  army,  stretched  from 
river-bank  to  river-bank,  the  Captain  held  the  city, 
and-  no  living  thing  might  pass  into  it  or  out  of  it, 
either  on  the  earth  or  on  the  water,  except  by  his 
consent.  No,  that  is  not  so;  a  few  men  did  float 
on  logs  along  the  banks  and  so  gain  the  city;  but 
besides  these  none,  and  they  carried  no  food,  only 
percussion-caps  hidden  in  their  clothes,  and  one  of 
them  a  message  from  General  Johnston  hovering 
futilely  in  the  north.  Vicksburg  saw  no  other  new 
face  from  the  day  the  Captain  sat  down  about  it 
and  said  it  should  be  his. 

But  how  long  was  it  to  be  until  he  should  redeem 
his  word?  June  waxed,  and  the  red  sun  beat  down 
hotly  and  dried  the  great  floods,  and  disease  stalked 
by  night  and  day.  Yet  Vicksburg  held  its  own. 

403 


THE       CAPTAIN 

The  blue  lines  which  had  sunk  into  the  hills  and 
ravines  moved  slowly  toward  the  city.  Soon  they 
were  close  to  the  warren  where  the  city's  defenders 
lay  on  their  bellies  and  shot  the  caps  from  every 
head  which  showed  above  ground.  So  close  that  a 
hand  might  toss  a  bit  of  tobacco  or  a  spill  of  coffee 
across  the  space  between.  Then  would  they  talk 
to  each  other  and  exchange  the  news.  To  the  man 
in  blue  the  Vicksburg  man  would  call,  "  Hey,  there ! 
What  do  you  uns  reckon  y'r  doing?  " 

"Teachin'  you  fellows  how  t'  keep  boardin'- 
house  for  yourselves." 

"  Thet  so  ?  Well,  ain't  seen  Vicksburg  gettin' 
tired  of  th'  job  yet." 

"What's  th'  hurry?  Fourth  a  July  is  time 
enough." 

"  Fourth  a  July'll  be  hot  as  hell  if  you-uns  try  for 
that." 

It  was  hot  enough  already.  What  the  sun  did  not 
do  the  big  guns  and  the  small  made  shift  to  accom- 
plish. But  it  was  never  so  hot  that  one  man  of  the 
vast  army  in  those  hills  could  not  go  into  the 
trenches  and  straighten  the  coils.  He  walked  with 
little  care  for  his  safety  and  no  more  care  for  how 
he  looked.  The  red  mud  of  the  ditches  was  smeared 
to  his  boot-tops,  dust  was  in  every  crease  of  his 
wrinkled  clothes,  dust  in  the  hollows  of  his  face. 
But  the  eyes  beneath  the  low-pulled  hat-brim  never 
missed  fire.  It  was  said  in  the  earliest  of  those  days 

404 


THE       CAPTAIN 

that  a  tooth-brush  and  a  pipe  were  all  his  baggage. 
Often  he  was  among  the  men  and  gone  before  they 
knew  that  he  had  come.  But  when  he  was  needed 
he  remained.  Remained,  though  the  chances  were 
ten  to  one  against  his  ever  leaving  if  he  waited. 
Where  they  were  clearing  the  ground  and  piling 
earth  for  a  new  battery  one  day  the  Confederate 
sharpshooters  made  the  air  hum,  and  twice  the 
workers  broke  and  ran  for  cover.  From  a  little  clump 
of  trees  just  then  stepped  the  Captain,  chewing  the 
fag  end  of  a  long  cigar,  and  walked  to  a  pile  of  split 
logs.  There  he  drew  out  his  knife  and  picked  up 
a  bit  of  wood.  The  noonday  sun  blazed  on  him, 
bullets  struck  slivers  from  the  logs  and  channelled 
the  ground  at  his  feet.  But  on  the  wood  in  his  hand 
he  seemed  intent,  and  he  never  raised  his  eyes. 
"  Damned  if  I  can  lie  back  while  he  whittles  that 
stick  out  there !  "  said  one  old  sergeant.  "  It  ain't 
in  human  riatur'."  So  out  into  the  open  the  fugi- 
tives came,  and  began  to  serve  the  guns  again. 

After  a  minute  more  the  Captain  closed  his  knife 
and  stood  up.  "  This  isn't  the  only  hot  place,  men," 
he  remarked.  Then  he  walked  away. 

Hotter  it  was  and  in  more  places  than  one,  as 
June  drew  to  a  close.  An  afternoon  came  when  the 
sun  was  a  brazen  ball  and  the  red  earth  a  furnace 
sending  up  its  own  stifling  heat,  —  the  25th  of  June. 
On  that  morning  Philip  had  gone  to  his  post  near 
the  great  fortification  which  towered  above  the 

405 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Jackson  road;  and  at  the  dinner-table  Beatrix  was 
speaking  of  the  report  that  the  place  was  to  be  as- 
saulted, when  a  dull  explosion,  deeper,  more  omi- 
nous than  any  which  they  had  heard,  shook  the 
house  and  started  them  from  their  seats.  They  ran 
out  on  the  porch.  To  the  southeast,  not  far  away, 
above  the  hills  piled  a  great  rounded  cloud  of  white 
smoke.  Rising  through  this  a  denser  fountain  of 
dust  which  spread  a  pall  over  the  sky  there.  That 
was  all,  and  the  fierce  roar  of  the  guns  which  fol- 
lowed drowned  out  every  other  sound.  At  night- 
fall they  heard  that  a  vast  mine  had  been  sprung 
beneath  the  fortification.  In  the  crater  which  it  left 
scores  were  blown  apart  by  hand  grenades,  crushed 
by  rocks,  and  riddled  by  bullets  before  Vicksburg's 
defenders  made  good  their  title  to  the  place. 

Beatrix  was  gone  to  the  hospital  at  five  o'clock, 
and  when  she  did  not  return  they  remembered  the  toll 
which  the  crater  had  taken,  and  knew  why.  Philip 
rode  up  in  the  early  morning,  so  powder-stained 
and  haggard  that  Lee  scarce  recognised  him.  He 
was  away  again  in  an  hour.  He  was  ordered  to 
the  water-front,  where  they  were  building  many 
boats.  It  might  be  that  an  attempt  would  be  made 
to  escape  by  the  river.  He  expected  to  be  away  for 
several  days  at  least. 

As  he  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  porch  while  old 
Caesar  was  bringing  his  horse,  Lee's  fingers  closed 
on  his  and  clung  to  them.  In  his  face  was  some- 

406 


THE       CAPTAIN 

thing  she  had  never  seen  there  before.  Not  all  the 
bravery  of  his  smile  nor  his  sparkling  eyes  deceived 
her.  He  said,  "  We  will  beat  them  off  yet,"  and 
she  knew  in  an  instant  that  he  knew  that  this  was 
not  to  be.  Yet  the  old  spirit  spoke,  the  spirit  of  the 
South,  gallant  and  challenging  in  its  most  desperate 
hour. 

"  Philip,"  she  said,  "  Vicksburg  is  not  all.  When 
you  come  back,  if  it  is  for  me,  I  will  —  I  will  be 
here." 

A  minute  later  he  was  riding  away  along  the 
sunken  road.  As  he  mounted  a  little  rise  he  turned 
in  the  saddle,  looking  back,  and  swung  his  cap. 
The  kiss  which  he  had  pressed  upon  her  palm  seemed 
to  linger  there,  and  she  was  sure  she  could  never 
forget  the  joy  which  had  kindled  his  eyes. 

At  ten  o'clock  of  that  morning  Beatrix's  old 
friend,  the  surgeon,  came  to  her  with  a  request.  An 
adjoining  house  had  been  made  into  a  temporary 
receiving-ward  for  the  hospital.  There  had  been 
brought,  the  night  before,  a  score  of  new  patients. 
The  surgeon  twisted  his  grizzled  moustache.  "  One 
of  them  is  a  Yankee." 

"  I  am  not  nursing  Yankees,"  she  answered. 

"  That  is  so,"  said  the  surgeon,  reflectively.  "  So 
of  course  he  must  —  die.  No  one  wants  to  take  care 
of  a  Yankee,  and  he  has  been  in  prison  a  long  time." 

"In  prison?" 

407 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  He  was  in  prison  until  to-day,  because  he  would 
not  give  his  parole.  We  fished  him  out  of  the  river 
the  first  night  the  batteries  were  run.  He  was 
wounded.  He's  pretty  nearly  done  for  now.  But 
he's  —  a  Yankee." 

"  Point  him  out  to  me,"  she  said,  suddenly.  "  I 
will  do  what  I  can  for  him."  But  she  was  angry 
with  herself.  Why  should  she  leave  her  people  to 
make  it  easier  for  one  of  those  who  had  filled  the 
beds  and  even  the  floors  around  her  with  the  hollow- 
eyed,  starved,  and  broken  fellows  who  lay  so  pa- 
tiently in  their  misery? 

The  old  surgeon  made  no  reply.  He  piloted  her 
to  the  door,  and  told  the  orderly  there  to  do  what 
she  requested,  then  stalked  away,  a  smile  on  his 
thin  lips.  He  was  wondering  what  lesson  this  mili- 
tant nurse  of  his  would  preach  to  her  crippled  foe. 

Beatrix  began  her  ministrations  at  the  doorway, 
and  as  cot  and  pallet  were  passed  by,  and  the  gray 
or  butternut  clothes  of  the  sufferers  told  her  on  which 
side  they  had  fought,  she  almost  forgot  the  Yankee 
who  somewhere  here  waited  for  her.  Without 
warning  she  was  looking  down  upon  him. 

His  head  was  turned  to  one  side,  and  his  eyes 
were  closed.  The  cheek-bones  stood  out  in  grim 
prominence  and  the  curling  hair  was  long  and 
matted.  A  thin  hand  played  with  the  edge  of  the 
sheet,  which  was  drawn  up  so  that  the  lower  part 
of  his  face  was  hid.  But  Beatrix  knew  him  on  the 

408 


THE       CAPTAIN 

instant.  She  bent  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  wrist. 
The  pulse  throbbed  under  her  fingers.  Then  he 
opened  his  eyes.  But  the  stare  was  vacant,  and 
when  she  spoke  to  him  his  eyelids  stirred  only  to 
drop  quickly.  She  found  the  orderly  and  questioned 
him.  But  he  knew  nothing.  Then  she  stood  by  the 
door,  looking  along  the  street  with  the  shattered 
houses  at  its  far  end  and  the  dirty  yellow  mounds 
up  and  down  its  length  with  a  tattered  square  of 
cloth  or  a  blanket  fastened  over  the  mouth  of  many 
of  the  caves.  A  hundred  feet  away  on  the  other 
side  of  a  little  hill  there  was  a  crash,  a  ripping  ex- 
plosion, and  a  great  puff  of  dust,  and  she  knew 
that  another  shell  had  found  its  way  into  the  town. 
Two  men  toiled  up  the  steep  rise,  a  stained  strip 
of  canvas  slung  on  two  poles  between  them,  a  man's 
arm  swinging  over  the  edge.  A  Yankee  shell !  And 
this  the  work  of  Yankees !  Resentment  flashed  into 
her  eyes.  "  I  would  not  moisten  his  lips !  "  she  de- 
clared between  her  teeth,  and  turned  to  go  back 
into  the  house.  Then  came  a  recollection  which 
made  her  pale  cheeks  burn,  and  she  stepped  into  the 
street,  and  sought  the  surgeon. 

That  gentleman  twisted  his  moustache  again,  and 
was  in  a  quandary.  Her  request  was  without  prece- 
dent. If  he  had  foreseen  anything  of  this  kind  — 
The  Yankee  was  a  military  prisoner ;  he  had  refused 
parole.  That  he  was  wounded  badly  —  well,  there 

409 


THE       CAPTAIN 

were  hundreds  in  the  same  state,  and  Confederate 
soldiers  at  that. 

But  Beatrix  had  her  way ;  it  was  seldom  she  had 
not,  and  her  name  and  services  were  worth  some- 
thing then  and  there.  Only  she  must  pledge  the 
custody  and  good  behaviour  of  her  prisoner.  "  Pris- 
oner? "  A  sad  smile  touched  her  lips.  "  You  have 
not  looked  at  him  closely,"  she  said.  "  But  I  will 
promise  what  is  required." 

It  was  in  one  of  those  inexplicable  brief  pauses  in 
the  firing  when  the  Union  guns  seemed  to  be  taking 
a  rest,  that  Beatrix  late  in  the  afternoon  of  two 
days  later  stepped  softly  along  the  darkened  hall  of 
her  home.  There  was  a  room  on  the  western  side 
of  the  building  with  a  window  opening  on  the 
veranda.  There  she  had  had  David  brought.  On 
the  first  day,  it  seemed,  only  to  have  him  die;  but, 
on  the  next,  as  she  knew  when  she  laid  a  hand  on 
his  forehead,  to  take  a  new  hold  on  life.  She  had 
left  him  this  morning  still  unconscious  of  where  he 
was  or  with  whom.  Now  she  stopped  at  the  door- 
way and  looked  in  to  see  him  with  face  upturned, 
sleeping. 

But  it  was  not  this  which  made  her  stand  where 
she  was.  A  figure  kneeled  by  the  side  of  the  couch, 
and  over  him  leaned  a  face  whose  lips  —  in  the  dim 
light  she  could  not  be  sure  —  but  they  seemed  to 
be  moving;  and  surely  she  caught  the  echo  of  a 
name  faintly  spoken,  "  David !  David !  "  Then  a 

4IO 


THE       CAPTAIN 

slim  hand  hovered  above  the  speaker's  head,  and  for 
an  instant  touched  the  tangled  hair  on  the  pillow, 
and  a  curious,  little,  broken  sound  came  to  her  ears. 
The  figure  rose ;  Beatrix  turned  and  sped  away. 

Wednesday  morning  —  the  Wednesday  of  July 
ist  —  and  the  crests  about  Vicksburg  were  ringed 
with  a  fire  such  as  in  its  worst  days  Vicksburg  had 
not  known  before.  Under  this  fiery  breath  and  the 
pitiless  heat  of  the  sun  it  seemed  as  if  the  city  must 
be  consumed  utterly,  and  no  life  or  habitation  be 
left.  Every  avenue,  from  the  fortifications  in  the 
rear  to  the  heights  where  the  court-house  still  reared 
its  cupola  above  the  river,  was  a  pathway  of  death, 
except  those  winding  ditches  which  cut  through  the 
hills.  And  along  these  the  dead  were  carried. 

Vicksburg  was  living  on  the  meat  of  its  mules  and 
on  a  dole  of  ground  peas.  But  still  its  guns  spoke 
back,  slowly  and  sullenly.  A  few  days  before,  a 
Confederate  woman  had  written  to  her  husband  out- 
side the  city,  "  We  put  our  trust  in  Heaven  and  Joe 
Johnston."  That  letter  was  placed  in  the  Captain's 
hands.  Reading  it  a  smile  was  on  his  lips.  "  Sher- 
man," he  said,  "  they  seem  to  put  a  great  deal  of 
trust  in  Heaven  and  Johnston.  We'll  lick  Johnston 
as  soon  as  we've  finished  this  Vicksburg  job." 

"  When  will  that  be?  "  asked  Sherman,  with  grim 
humour. 

"  I   can't   tell   exactly,"   the   Captain   answered. 

411 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  But  I  shall  stay  here  to  do  it  if  it  takes  twenty 
years." 

So  on  this  July  morning,  in  the  house  under 
the  first  hills  back  of  the  fortifications,  they  heard 
the  whimpering  of  shrapnel  balls  and  the  scream  of 
the  shell  hurrying  overhead,  and  knew  that  it  would 
not  be  twenty  years  nor  yet  twenty  days  until  the 
tale  of  Vicksburg  was  told.  In  that  vale  with  its 
trees  clustered  close  to  the  hillside  and  the  ravine 
below  where  the  headquarters'  horses  grazed  amid 
a  shower  of  bullets  dropping  from  the  sky,  only  this 
house  and  one  other  near  by,  where  temporary  field 
headquarters  had  been  established,  were  safe  from 
the  withering  storm  of  lead  and  iron  which  poured 
from  four  sides  upon  the  city  on  the  heights. 

David,  propped  up  on  pillows,  was  writing  a 
letter.  It  was  against  orders.  Beatrix  was  doctor, 
and  she  had  forbidden  it.  But  there  are  some  things 
a  wise  physician  yields,  and  Beatrix  had  yielded  this. 
The  day  before  when  he  spoke  of  Boone  she  had 
promised  that  word  should  be  got  to  him  soon. 
'Lias  knew  a  way.  He  had  already  carried  one 
message  through. 

The  intelligence  was  all  that  was  needed  to 
determine  David  to  write.  He  argued  that  Boone 
would  lose  no  chance  to  write  him  under  similar 
circumstances.  "  Now  would  he?  "  He  appealed  to 
Beatrix  (they  were  alone  at  the  time). 

"  I  am  no  judge,"  she  said. 

412 


THE       CAPTAIN 

"  Because  you  are  prejudiced." 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  that  is  so."  Her  hand  smoothed  a 
fold  in  her  gown,  but  he  could  make  nothing  of  her 
face. 

"  So  I  am  going  to  write,"  he  announced,  and 
began  his  task.  But  even  the  one  side  of  a  sheet 
of  note-paper,  which  his  uncertain  hand  filled  with 
sprawling  letters,  was  a  task  which  overtaxed  him. 
All  at  once  he  sank  back  on  the  pillow,  his  arms 
falling  weakly.  "  I  didn't  know  what  a  cripple  I 
was,"  he  said,  apologetically.  "  Beatrix,  be  good 
to  me.  Finish  my  letter.  There  are  only  a  few  lines 
more." 

Apparently  she  did  not  hear  him.  She  was  stand- 
ing by  the  window  overlooking  the  path  to  the 
ravine.  He  asked  her  again,  and  she  came  toward 
the  bedside.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  will  finish  it.  But  you 
do  not  deserve  it.  What  shall  I  say?  " 

He  began  to  dictate.  It  was  easy  enough  now, 
and  messages  crowded  to  his  lips.  But  he  spoke 
slowly,  and  over  the  edge  of  the  bed  coverings  he 
saw  her,  the  paper  spread  on  a  book,  her  head  bent 
over  it.  The  tip  of  the  pen  told  him  that  she  was 
writing  rapidly.  So  when  he  said,  "  That  is  enough, 
thank  you,"  and  still  her  face  remained  bent,  he 
remarked,  "Was  I  saying  all  that?  I  must  have 
spoken  too  fast." 

Her  head  straightened  quickly.  She  raised  the 
letter  and  scanned  it. 

413 


THE       CAPTAIN 

He  held  out  his  hand.  "  No,"  she  said,  hurriedly, 
"  you  have  done  too  much  already.  I  will  read  it 
to  you."  She  read  it  carefully,  and  folded  it  and  put 
it  in  the  envelope.  While  she  sealed  it,  she  remarked, 
"  'Lias  must  start  with  it  at  once.  I  signed  it  for 
you."  She  rose. 

"Oh,  —  did  you?"  said  David,  and  was  a  little 
surprised.  "  I  had  something  to  put  into  a  post- 
script," he  added. 

She  was  at  the  door,  when  she  turned,  and  her 
eyes  were  defiant.  "  There  is  a  postscript,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  about  Vicksburg.  I  have  told  him  what 
she  says  —  '  If  you  want  me  come  and  take  me! '  " 


414 


XXVI 
LEE 

LATE  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  David 
awakened,  and  for  a  few  minutes  lay  in  the 
old  chintz-covered  chair  by  the  window 
winking  at  the  ceiling  and  knowing  that  he  was 
much  stronger.  A  thin  breeze  sifted  through  the 
lowered  blinds,  and  it  was  almost  free  of  the  acrid 
taint  of  burnt  powder  which  had  hung  in  the  air 
for  so  long.  The  firing  from  the  hills  had  dwindled. 
Then  Beatrix  entered,  tiptoeing  across  the  room,  and 
he  turned  his  head  and  saw  on  the  little  round-top 
marble  table  by  his  bed  a  nosegay.  He  reached  over, 
his  eyes  brightened.  These  were  the  first  flowers  he 
had  seen  for  many  weeks.  Sniffing  their  fragrance, 
he  thanked  her  for  them. 

She  shook  her  head  and,  with  a  mysterious  smile, 
replied,  "  From  —  a  friend."  She  crossed  to  the 
further  window  and  raised  the  blind.  The  sun  had 
fallen  below  the  nearest  ridge  and  a  big  sweet-gum 
stirred  its  dusty  leaves  close  by.  Long  shadows 
were  creeping  down  the  slope  of  the  ravine's  water- 

415 


THE       CAPTAIN 

cut  banks  of  clay,  and  there  a  dozen  horses  cropped 
the  foliage  of  the  bushes.  Further  on  guns  were 
stacked,  and  a  long  line  of  men  was  stretched  in  the 
shade,  many  of  them  asleep,  a  few  squatted  around 
little  piles  of  sticks  from  which  twisted  lazy  spirals 
of  smoke.  Beatrix  drew  in  a  long  breath  of  the  air, 
and  asked,  "  Do  you  feel  that  breeze?  It  has  been  so 
hot  to-day  that  I  reckon  the  sun  just 'had  to  give  it 
up  for  awhile." 

There  was  no  response  from  the  chair,  and  she 
looked  over  and  saw  that  his  eyes  were  on  the 
flowers  which  he  was  turning  in  his  hands.  A 
minute  or  more  slipped  by.  She  left  the  window 
and  mechanically  straightened  the  chair  and  rear- 
ranged some  books  on  the  bureau.  All  the  while 
she  stole  glances  at  him.  But  he  did  not  raise  his 
eyes,  and  his  silence  disturbed  her.  She  guessed 
that  he1  was  wondering  why  Lee  had  not  come  with 
her  flowers.  Twice  he  had  asked  about  her,  once 
that  morning;  and  it  had  not  been  easy  to  answer 
him.  He  had  made  no  remark  when  he  heard  that 
she  was  busy  nursing  Miss  Celia.  But  Beatrix  knew 
that  the  reason  for  Lee's  absence  lay  not  with  Miss 
Celia.  An  hour  before  she  had  seen  her  standing 
by  the  door,  the  flowers  in  her  hand,  listening,  until, 
sure  that  he  was  asleep,  she  stole  in,  and  soon  came 
out  very  softly.  A  little  later,  coming  upon  her 
unexpectedly,  Beatrix  saw  that  her  eyes  were  wet, 
and  the  ringers  which  she  closed  so  quickly  did  not 

416 


THE       CAPTAIN 

quite  conceal  a  single  flower  like  those  she  had 
left  in  his  room. 

But  this  David  could  not  know,  and  Beatrix  did 
not  tell  him.  If  he  had  known  it,  she  doubted  that  it 
would  have  helped  him.  But  one  thing  she  could 
tell  him,  and  this,  it  was  but  fair  to  Lee  and  to 
him  that  he  should  know.  With  those  flowers  in 
his  hands  he  would  surely  understand  what  was 
meant.  So,  standing  by  the  window,  she  spoke 
about  the  soldiers  in  the  ravine.  "  They  came  in 
last  night,  and  looked  so  worn  out.  Think  of  it! 
On  half-rations,  peas  and  mule  meat  at  that,  they 
say.  And  hard  duty,  day  and  night  almost,  for  over 
five  weeks !  One  of  their  officers  told  me  last  night 
that  they  expect  to  go  upon  the  redoubt  on  the  Jack- 
son road  to-day." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  listlessly.  Then,  recollec- 
tion stirred  by  the  mention  of  that  highway  against 
which  his  own  soldiers  were  massed,  he  asked, 
quickly,  "'Lias?  Has  he  come  back?" 

"  Not  yet." 

"  But  he  was  to  be  in  this  morning.  He  hasn't 
been  stopped  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  will  come  soon,"  she  said,  soothingly. 

"  You  promise  to  let  me  see  him  as  soon  as  he 
comes  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  But  I  was  going  to  tell  you  —  what 
was  it?  Oh,  yes,  the  officer  who  came  to  the  house 
last  night  brought  a  message  —  from  Philip.  He 

417 


THE       CAPTAIN 

said  we  might  expect  to  see  Philip  this  evening  — 
here." 

She  was  purposely  looking  out  the  window.  She 
hoped  that  he  would  say  something  which  would 
make  it  easier  for  her  to  continue.  But  only  a  faint 
rustle  from  the  big  chair  told  her  that  he  had  heard 
and  perhaps  understood.  The  silence  drove  her  to 
go  on,  "  He  is  coming  for  dinner.  Philip,  I  mean. 
Dinner !  "  with  comic  dismay.  "  David,  let  me  give 
you  the  bill  of  fare.  No,  I  won't.  It  is  better  any- 
how than  what  they  get  where  he  has  been." 

From  the  big  chair  still  no  respond:  and  once 
more  the  silence  became  an  embarrassment.  "  And 
that  reminds  me,"  she  said,  trying-  valiantly  to  be 
cheerful,  "  Miss  Celia  brightened  this  morning  and 
sat  up  for  the  first  time.  She  declared  she  felt  right 
hungry,  and  believed  that  she  would  like  to  have 
some  —  what  do  you  suppose?" 

Still  again  she  waited  in  vain.  Then  she  saw 
that  he  was  not  looking  at  her  at  all.  He  was  lean- 
ing back  against  the  pillow,  the  flowers  loose  in  his 
extended  hands,  his  head  turned  away.  It  was  on 
her  tongue  to  bid  him  take  courage.  But  something 
forbade  it,  and  she  wondered  could  :  he  go  to  Lee 
and  tell  her. 

And  David?  He  was  fighting  a  harder  battle 
than  any  he  had  fought  before  —  harder  than  any  in 
those  days  of  troubled  indecision  when  he  walked 
the  floor  of  his  room  at  college  and  wrestled  with 

418 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  problem  Mr.  Lincoln  set  for  him.  This  fight  he 
had  thought  won.  First  when  six  months  ago  he 
rode  out  of  Holly  Springs,  remembering  that  he  had 
failed  her,  and  that  the  man  who  had  not  failed  her 
had  passed  through  there  with  her  but  a  few  hours 
before.  Again,  when  Beatrix  had  left  him  on  the 
Union  boat  at  Milliken's  Bend,  and  he  had  reasoned 
out  what  she  had  told  him,  and  in  the  end  shaken  his 
head.  Still  again,  he  thought  he  had  settled  with 
himself  when  he  waked  in  the  house  where  he  now 
lay,  and  a  dream  returned  to  him,  —  a  dream  of  a 
face  bent  over  his,  and  a  voice  whispering  his  name. 
And  he  put  the  dream  from  him,  telling  himself 
that  it  could  never  be  more  than  a  dream.  But  now  ? 
Now  came  these  flowers,  and,  when  he  held  them 
against  his  face,  there  was  a  message  in  their  fra- 
grance which  made  his  heart  leap.  But  in  another 
moment  he  had  decided  that  the  message  was  the 
keepsake  of  a  memory  only.  He  was  more  sure  of 
this  when  he  heard  that  Philip  was  coming.  "  Fare- 
well," the  flowers  whispered.  Or,  if  they  did  not, 
they  asked  him  to  remember  the  old  days  always. 
So,  when  Beatrix  spoke  again,  he  had  the  message 
next  his  heart  and  answered  quietly,  and  never 
thought  to  give  a  reason  for  it,  "  Beatrix,  ask  Lee  if 
she  will  come  and  see  me  for  a  little  while.  I  am 
going  back  to  the  hospital  to-day." 

"  Going  back  to  the  hospital  ?    You  ?    To-day  ? 

419 


THE       CAPTAIN 

Why  —  you  can't."  You  had  guessed  at  a  good 
deal,  Beatrix;  you  had  never  thought  of  this. 

"  But  I  am,"  he  returned.  "  As  soon  as  'Lias 
comes.  I  count  on  you  to  help  me." 

"  Help  you  do  that  ?  It  would  kill  you !  I  will 
not  help  you  —  not  one  inch." 

"  Then  I  must  try  to  get  there  without  your  help." 
He  smiled.  "  For  I  am  going  to-day."  He  lifted 
himself  on  his  elbow,  and  his  thin  face  was  pale 
and  stubborn.  Lee  would  have  known  what  that 
closed  jaw  meant.  Beatrix  understood  enough  to 
make  her  say,  quickly,  "  Well,  I  will  tell  Lee.  But 
that  is  all." 

She  left  him  lying  with  the  flowers  in  his  hand, 
staring  at  the  opposite  wall,  and  walked  slowly  down 
the  stair.  While  she  stood  in  the  hallway,  ponder- 
ing how  much  she  could  tell,  Lee  came  in  from  the 
porch.  Then  she  gave  her  the  message  and  turned 
away  quickly  and  climbed  to  her  own  room  and 
locked  the  door  and  flung  herself  on  the  bed.  All 
the  world  seemed  gone  wrong.  The  throbbing 
thunder  of  the  guns  had  begun  again.  She  heard 
them  dully,  and  into  her  mind  came  recollections 
of  what  she  had  written  into  David's  letter  to  Boone. 
A  challenge?  Yes,  it  was  that  and  nothing  else, 
she  told  herself.  And  a  challenge,  —  a  boast  of  the 
South,  he  had  taken  it  to  be,  of  course ;  and  by  now 
had  forgotten  it  most  likely.  What  else  might  she 
expect?  Suddenly  she  buried  her  face  in  the  pil- 

420 


lows  and  tried  to  muffle  her  ears  to  the  sound  which 
had  grown  hateful  to  her  with  a  hatefulness  distinct 
from  its  message  of  command  and  death. 

At  the  door  of  David's  room  Lee  was  knocking. 
He  called  to  her  to  come  in.  He  was  sitting  up 
straightly,  and  the  pillows  were  piled  at  one  side. 
"  I'm  mighty  glad  you  were  able  to  come  so  soon," 
he  exclaimed.  "  Won't  you  sit  here  near  me,  where 
we  can  talk  ?  "  He  was  smiling  at  her  in  the  old 
friendly  way,  and  his  voice  was  clear  and  cheerful  if 
it  was  not  very  strong.  It  carried  her  back  to 
Gravois  days,  and  brought  a  sense  of  peace  with  it. 
"  Why,  David,  you  are  like  yourself  again,"  she 
said,  as  she  settled  herself  in  the  chair  by  him. 
"  Now  we  have  only  to  get  some  colour  into  your 
cheeks." 

"  That  will  come  as  soon  as  I  get  out  in  the  air. 
And  I  have  been  taken  such  good  care  of  here  that 
I  have  no  excuse  to  stay  any  longer." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  needed  an  excuse,"  she  said, 
reproachfully.  "  I  am  sure  Beatrix  is  glad  to  have 
you.  And  I  —  well,  I  reckon,  we're  too  old  friends 
to  talk  about  excuses.  Aren't  we?  Besides,  now 
that  Miss  Celia  is  better,  I  intend  to  help  take  care 
of  you.  You  see  she  has  been  so  nervous  and  miser- 
able till  now  that  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  put  in,  quickly.  "  You've  had 
your  hands  full.  I  didn't  expect  you  to  come.  And 

421 


THE       CAPTAIN 

I  heard  from  you  each  day.  But  now  I  have  decided 
that  I  should  report  for  —  duty." 

"  I  don't  think  I  understand." 

"  Go  back,  I  mean  —  where  I  came  from  last. 
Time's  up,  and  —  they  want  me." 

Lee's  heart  was  tugging  at  her  lips.  She  leaned 
forward,  her  hands  together  in  her  lap,  with  puzzled 
brows.  "  But  you  are  in  Vicksburg.  Besides,  you 
are  not  strong  enough." 

"  Not  strong  enough  ?  "  he  laughed.  "  Look  at 
this !  "  He  leaned  sideways  and  picked  up  a  pil- 
low, flourishing  it  above  his  head.  "  How's  that?  " 
Then  the  pillow  dropped,  and  his  arm  fell  loosely. 
The  little  spots  of  colour  in  his  cheeks  went  out,  and 
he  swayed,  catching  at  the  cover  over  his  knees. 
She  had  sprung  to  her  feet  and  was  beside  him.  But 
as  she  reached  out  a  hand,  he  recovered  himself.  "  I 
am  all  right  now,"  he  declared.  "  I  am  sorry  I 
frightened  you.  If  I  had  a  glass  of  water  —  " 

Did  he  lean  away  from  her?  Even  in  her  fright 
she  was  conscious  that  he  had.  For  a  moment  her 
arm  remained  outstretched,  an  open  hand  extended 
to  him.  Then  it  dropped,  and  she  turned  and  ran 
to  the  table  in  a  corner  where  a  pitcher  stood.  She 
tilted  it.  It  was  empty.  "  Never  mind,"  he  called. 
"  I'll  be  all  right  in  a  minute." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said.  "  I  will  get  some  water  from 
the  cistern.  It  won't  take  a  minute." 

She  sped  to  the  door,  and  he  heard  her  run  down 

422 


THE       CAPTAIN 

the  stairs.  A  moment  passed  and  he  heard  another 
step  on  the  stairs.  Some  one  came  up  and  along 
the  hallway.  Beatrix,  he  thought,  and  feared  she 
would  come  in.  But  the  steps  went  by  and  toward 
the  door  which  gave  on  the  veranda  outside  his 
window.  While  he  was  yet  wondering  who  it  was, 
Lee  came  into  the  room  again. 

She  poured  a  glass  of  the  water  and  came  over 
with  it.  He  was  lying  back  against  the  pillows,  and 
reached  out  for  it.  But  this  time  she  was  determined. 
She  put  the  water  down  on  the  table  and  slid  an  arm 
beneath  his  shoulders  and  raised  him,  David,  you 
did  your  best,  but  you  were  very  weak  for  all  your 
boast.  And  she  knew  it.  Her  arm  curved  about 
you  gently  and  yet  so  firmly  that  you  had  no  chance 
to  resist.  And  you  could  not  warn  her.  So  she 
raised  you,  raised  you  and  drew  you  toward  her. 
Then,  all  at  once,  your  head  in  the  hollow  of  her 
arm,  you  were  looking  your  danger  in  the  face,  and 
all  else  was  forgotten.  All  but  the  eyes  whose 
depths  of  tenderness  you  had  never  known  before, 
and  the  lips  a  little  parted  which  did  not  move,  yet 
whispered  to  you  the  one  word  you  cared  to  hear. 
She  pressed  you  closer,  and  a  lock  of  hair  brushed 
your  temple.  Then  your  heart  spoke.  "  Lee,"  you 
said.  "  Lee,"  and  "  Lee,"  again.  And  in  that  in- 
stant all  was  changed.  The  light  in  her  eyes  was 
gone,  a  frightened  quiver  at  her  lips,  and  the  arm 
slipped  from  beneath  you.  "  Oh !  oh !  "  she  cried. 

423 


THE       CAPTAIN 

But  David  lifted  himself  and  stretched  out  an 
arm. 

"Don't!  David,  don't,"  she  begged.  "You 
don't  understand." 

"I  do,"  he  cried.  "I  understand.  But  I  love 
you." 

"  No,  no,  you  are  wrong.  And  it  was  my 
fault.  I  tell  you  it  was  a  mistake."  She  did  not 
look  at  him,  and  repeated,  "  It  was  a  mistake." 

"  It  was  not  a  mistake,"  he  answered.  "  If  it 
was  —  "  He  halted  there,  and  in  a  moment  spoke 
again,  quietly.  "  Lee,  we  have  known  each  other 
a  long,  long  time.  We  were  always  good  comrades, 
and  when  we  were  together  back  home  we  trusted 
each  other  always.  Isn't  that  so,  dear?  " 

A  little  broken  "  yes  "  came  to  his  ear. 

"  Then  why  can't  we  trust  each  other  now  ?  It  is 
not  so  different.  I  am  David,  just  the  same  as  I 
used  to  be,  and  you  are  Lee.  Only  now  I  under- 
stand. I  know  why  it  was  that  you  were  always 
more  to  me  than  anyone  else,  why  I  was  always 
lonely  without  you.  And,  dear,  if  I  was  a  long  time 
understanding  this,  you  must  forgive  me  because 
we  will  go  over  all  those  years  again  together." 

"  But  we  can't,  we  can't !  Oh,  David !  don't  you 
see  we  can't?  It  is  too  late." 

"  It  is  not  too  late.  It  would  only  be  too  late 
if  you  did  not  love  me.  But  you  do.  I  know  it. 

424 


THE       CAPTAIN 

You  have  told  mfe  so.  Trust  me.  Look  at  me,  dear, 
and  tell  me  so  again." 

How  long  it  was  before  she  looked  at  him, 
her  eyes  entreating  him  to  believe  her  and  a 
tremble  at  her  mouth !  "  David,  David,  dear,  you 
don't  understand  even  yet.  I  can't  say  what  you 
want.  I  have  no  right  to  say  that  to  you  —  now." 
Then  she  laid  her  hand  in  his,  and  his  fingers  closed 
on  it.  But  his  face  was  turned  away. 

The  firing  from  the  hills  had  died  in  a  rumble 
in  the  south  and  the  voice  of  a  man  shouting  came 
from  the  garden.  Another  voice  replied  from  the 
veranda  just  outside  the  window,  and  she  started 
away  with  a  whispered  cry.  "  Philip !  He  was 
there  on  the  veranda." 

David  did  not  answer,  and  while  they  waited  they 
heard  him  come  'into  the  hallway  and  go  down- 
stairs. Then  a  strange  voice  speaking  to  him.  "  I 
have  my  orders,  Colonel.  They  are  from  head- 
quarters. Communicating  with  the  Yankees.  The 
man  was  seen  going  through  the  lines  this  morning. 
It  is  the  second  time  —  a  tall  man  with  sandy  hair. 
He  was  recognised." 

"  What  of  it  ?  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  this 
house." 

"  But  he  is  known  to  have  come  from  here." 

"  Well,  catch  him.  Then  come  back.  But  don't 
come  until  you  do.  I  am  no  detective.  Give  that 
message  to  your  officer  with  my  compliments." 

425 


THE       CAPTAIN 

A  moment's  pause,  then  the  other  man  again, 
"  Sorry,  Colonel,  but  my  orders  are  to  bring  back 
that  Yankee  officer  you're  nursing.  I  have  a  detail 
here." 

"  What  Yankee  officer  ?  "  Philip  burst  out.  "  Are 
you  harking  back  to  that  nonsense?  What  do  you 
take  this  house  for?  Do  you  know  my  name?  If 
you  don't,  report  it  at  headquarters  before  you  go 
further." 

"  I  know  all  that,  sir.  And  so  does  headquarters. 
A  Yankee  officer,  I  was  told." 

"Look  here!"  Philip  was  speaking  evenly  but 
stiffly.  "  I  suppose  my  word  will  be  accepted. 
You'll  find  it  is  where  you  came  from." 

"  Of  course,  if  you  say  —  " 

"  I  do.  I  say  that  I  have  seen  no  Yankee  officer 
in  this  house.  And  as  I  live  here  I  ought  to  know. 
Is  that  sufficient?" 

Another  pause,  then,  "  Yes,  Colonel,  I  reckon  it 
is.  But  it's  queer.  Well  —  good  evening,  sir." 
There  was  a  quick  step  across  the  porch  below,  and 
they  heard  Philip  coming  slowly  up-stairs.  At  their 
door  he  paused,  then  went  on.  The  minutes  passed, 
and  again  they  heard  his  steps  in  the  hallway 
and  on  the  stairs,  going  down.  The  cannonading 
swept  up  from  the  south  once  more,  gathering  vol- 
ume as  it  moved.  For  an  instant  Lee's  hand  pressed 
David's.  Then  she  was  gone. 

Back  in  her  room,  she  closed  the  door  behind  her, 

426 


THE       CAPTAIN 

and  with  her  foot  on  the  sill,  something  white 
pinned  to  the  cushion  on  the  bureau  caught  her  eye. 
It  was  a  scrap  of  paper,  with  a  corner  turned  down, 
and  her  name  written  across  it.  Before  she  opened 
it  she  knew  what  it  was  to  tell  her,  even  as  she  knew 
from  whom  it  came.  The  pin  which  held  it  was  a 
five-pointed  star  of  gold  with  a  row  of  tiny  pearls  in 
each  point,  a  treasure  of  her  girlhood  days.  She 
had  always  worn  it,  worn  it  until  it  had  become,  as 
he  had  told  her  when  he  begged  it  from  her,  "  just 
the  nearest  thing  to  being  a  little  bit  of  yourself, 
sweetheart.  And  so  I  reckon  I'm  mighty  ow-dacious 
asking  you  for  it  as  a  keepsake."  But  she  had 
given  it  to  him,  —  her  only  gift.  And  he  had  worn 
it,  as  she  once  discovered,  suspended  from  a  ribbon 
round  his  neck.  "  So,  you  see,  it  is  almost  as  close 
to  you  now,  sweetheart,  as  it  was  before,"  he  ex- 
plained. "  'Deed,  that's  what  my  heart  tells  me, 
anyhow." 

Now  it  lay  in  her  hand.  He  had  given  it  back 
to  her  unasked.  With  it  he  had  left  —  ?  She  un- 
folded the  note  and  read  the  dozen  words  it  held. 
Then  she  raised  the  note  and  pressed  her  lips  to  it. 
"Good-bye!  Good-bye!"  she  whispered. 

Twilight  was  fading  softly.  Shadows  had  en- 
folded the  ravine  and  filled  its  far  end  with  purple. 
Night  was  stealing  into  the  room.  David  by  the 
window  lay  back  in  the  chair,  his  hands  dropped  in 

427 


THE       CAPTAIN 

his  lap,  gazing  away  toward  the  north,  and  saw 
neither  the  sweet-gum  stirring  in  the  breeze  close  by, 
nor  yet  the  stretch  of  road  which  showed  a  yellow 
blur  through  the  magnolias  beyond.  He  only  knew 
that  he  was  not  alone  when  a  voice  spoke  close  be- 
hind him.  "  David."  No  more,  and  it  was  faintly 
spoken,  yet  in  the  word  was  offered  to  him  some- 
thing very  pitiful  and  yet  so  sweet.  He  reached  out 
a  hand,  and  spoke  her  name.  In  the  dark  her  ringers 
touched  his  own,  then  slipped  into  his  clasp,  and  he 
knew  that  she  had  brought  her  loneliness  and  trouble 
to  him.  He  drew  her  to  him  and  spoke  her  name, 
"  Lee,  Lee,"  holding  her  hand  against  his  cheek  so 
that  he  felt  each  beat  in  the  slender  wrist.  She 
leaned  against  the  back  of  the  chair,  a  hand  was 
laid  upon  his  head  and  rested  there.  After  a  little 
while,  he  said,  "  I  don't  think  that  I  ever  knew 
Philip  —  before.  And  I  would  like  to  tell  him 
something  when  he  comes  back." 

"  Hush,"  she  said,  softly.  "  He  will  not  come 
back  —  now." 

"  Not  come  ?  "  he  began,  wonderingly.  Then  it 
was  told  him  what  she  meant,  and  his  ringers  tight- 
ened their  hold. 

"  No,"  she  whispered.  "  He  has  said  —  his  good- 
bye." She  slipped  down  beside  him  and  her  head 
was  laid  against  his  arm.  He  drew  her  hand  to 
his  lips.  The  darkness  deepened,  not  far  away  a 

428 


THE       CAPTAIN 

spark  glowed  against  the  wall  of  the  ravine  and 
another  near  the  roadside.  A  tongue  of  flame  licked 
the  blackness,  and  soon  men  began  to  move  in  and 
out  of  the  widening  circles  of  light.  But  David  saw 
none  of  this.  He  w*as  looking  down  on  the  head 
against  his  arm,  and  he  was  conscious  only  that 
she  was  beside  him.  She  had  come  to  him,  she  was 
never  to  leave  him. 

But  Lee  ?  Even  in  those  silent  moments  when  her 
heart  spoke  to  his  and  was  answered,  she  remem- 
bered that  somewhere  in  that  night  was  riding  a 
trim,  lithe  figure  in  Confederate  gray.  A  boyish, 
eager  face  was  before  her,  and  a  voice,  the  voice 
which  always  lingered  on  her  name,  echoed  faintly. 
For  he  had  loved  her  truly  and  tried  gallantly  to 
win  her.  And  he  had  lost,  lost  bravely,  as  his  South 
was  losing,  and  gone  away,  leaving  only  those  few 
broken  words  which  she  could  never  forget. 

So  when  she  raised  her  head  and  David  saw  her 
eyes  shining  through  the  tears,  she  answered  his 
unspoken  question.  "  Yes,  it  is  Philip,  dear.  I  was 
thinking  of  him.  I  wish  he  knew  that  I  would 
always  remember  him." 

After  that  the  minutes  slipped  by,  and  old  Caesar 
knocked  once  hesitatingly,  and  went  away.  Bea- 
trix, coming  from  Lee's  empty  room  to  this  same 
door,  looked  in  and,  more  clear  of  vision,  under- 
stood, and  stole  down  the  hall  unnoticed.  A  star 


THE       CAPTAIN 

shone  out  above  the  cropped  top  of  the  big  gum- 
tree,  and  another  came  to  keep  it  company.  Per- 
haps the  two  by  the  window  saw  them,  and  spoke  of 
something  that  awaited  them,  far  beyond  to  the 
north.  ' 


430 


XXVII 

THE 
CAPTAIN'S  WAY 

FROM  the  porch  Beatrix  saw  two  men  in 
uniform  ride  along  the  Jackson  road  toward 
the  fortifications.  While  they  rounded  the 
shoulder  of  the  ridge  she  stood,  her  hands  clenched, 
then  turned  into  the  house  and  climbed  the  stairs. 
Before  the  door  of  Miss  Celia's  room  she  debated 
before  she  stepped  inside  and  closed  the  door.  The 
blinds  were  lowered.  Between  the  slats  sifted  little 
dusty  bands  of  sunlight  which  slanted  across  the 
figure  in  the  high-backed  rocking-chair  and  touched 
the  hands  folded  upon  an  open  prayer-book.  Beatrix 
just  over  the  threshold  hesitated  again,  her  heart 
failing  her. 

Miss  Celia  opened  her  eyes.  "Yes?"  she  said, 
inquiringly. 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing."  Beatrix  sought  for  the  knob 
of  the  door  behind  her.  "  You  were  resting." 

The  eyes  fixed  upon  her  face  were  very  bright 
and  searching  now.  "  I  have  been  asleep.  That 
makes  no  difference.  What  is  it?"  A  hand  on 

431 


THE       CAPTAIN 

either  arm  of  the  chair,  NMiss  Celia  raised  herself 
and  sat  stiffly  alert.  Suddenly  she  exclaimed,  "  They 
are  not  firing.  This  morning  you  told  me  —  " 

Beatrix  had  found  the  door-knob,  but  she  no 
longer  meditated  retreat.  Only  it  was  even  harder 
to  tell  what  she  had  to  tell  than  it  had  been  to 
acknowledge  the  truth  to  herself.  "  Yes,"  she 
answered,  "  they  are  not  firing.  And  what  I  told 
you  this  morning  was  what  I  —  hoped.  I  was 
wrong.  They  are  not  fighting  because  there  is 
a  white  flag  over  the  Jackson  road  fort." 

"A  white  flag!"  Miss  Celia's  mouth  framed 
the  words.  But  no  sound  issued  forth.  She  swayed 
a  little  forward,  then  was  rigid  once  more,  looking 
straight  ahead  of  her  and  seeming  to  see  far  away. 
So  almost  a  minute  of  silence.  Then,  still  clutching 
the  arms  of  the  chair,  she  demanded,  "  Who  has 
dared?  Who  has  dared  to  raise  a  white  flag?  You 
are  wrong,  Beatrix.  You  must  be  wrong." 

But  Beatrix's  face  told  her  no,  and,  when  she 
sat  so  still,  Beatrix  spoke,  "  No,  aunty,  it  is  no 
mistake.  I  did  not  tell  you  about  it  till  I  had  to. 
But  I  saw  General  Pemberton  ride  past  the  house. 
A  few  minutes  ago.  And,  I  heard,  he  was  to  confer 
with  —  the  Yankees." 

Miss  Celia  cried  out,  "  Then  they  haven't  yet  sur- 
rendered the  city?"  A  spark  glowed  in  her  eyes. 
"  And  they  never  will !  Help  me  dress.  There  are 
men  left,  thank  God !  They  must  stop  this  coward- 

432 


THE       CAPTAIN 

ice.  I  will  see  them.  I  will  go  to  Colonel  Wilson. 
He  cannot  know  about  it.  Hurry!  " 

Beatrix  left  the  door  and  bent  over  the  chair. 
"  Aunty,  aunty,  don't  you  understand  ?  It  is  too 
late  for  that.  Besides  they  couldn't  do  anything 
else.  The  city  is  —  starving." 

The  figure  in  the  chair  remained  tense  and  up- 
right, listening,  yet  did  not  seem  to  hear.  Slowly 
her  arms  relaxed.  Beatrix  had  not  the  courage  to 
look  into  her  face.  A  single  tear  dropped  on  the 
trembling,  thin  fingers.  But  after  that  no  more, 
and  when  Miss  Celia  spoke  her  voice  was  steady 
but  very  low  and  tired.  "  It  will  be  better  if  you 
leave  me  alone  now,  dearie.  By  and  by  —  I  want 
to  be  ready  when  —  they  come." 

At  that  same  time,  so  close  to  the  yellow  mounds 
which  topped  the  nearest  ridges  and  to  the  burrows 
in  the  ravines  on  the  other  side  that  the  thousands 
of  sweating,  dirt-stained  faces  which  looked  down 
from  them  could  see  it  all,  two  men  sat  under  a  big 
oak-tree  facing  each  other.  One  in  gray  coat,  tall, 
with  swarthy  face,  nervously  stripped  a  twig  while 
he  talked.  The  other,  shorter,  plain  of  face,  and  with 
coat  collar  hunched  up  under  his  slouch-hat,  chewed 
on  a  cigar  and  listened,  and  spoke  only  now  and 
then.  At  last  the  taller  man  jumped  up,  a  little  knot 
of  officers  at  one  side  came  forward.  The  two  men 
under  the  tree  parted ;  the  tall  man  rode  back  into 

433 


THE       C    A    P    T  ~A    f  N 

the  city,  the  shorter  man,  still  tugging  at  his  cigar, 
mounted  his  horse  and  was  swallowed  by  a  turn  in 
a  ravine.  Then,  up  and  down  the  lines  on  either 
side,  even  to  the  river  where  Porter's  gunboats  still 
sent  shell  screaming  into  the  sky,  and  back  into  the 
city,  into  every  house  and  cave  went  the  word  Sur- 
render! Vicksburg  had  yielded  her  defence. 

Sunday  morning  came,  and  Beatrix  from  the 
doorway  saw  the  head  of  the  first  long,  thin  line 
of  men  in  butternut  and  gray  wind  along  the  road 
with  worn  faces  and  dragging  feet,  bearing  the 
colours  to  where,  beyond  the  hills,  the  massed  ranks 
of  blue  awaited  them.  It  was  in  her  heart  to  cheer 
them,  but  something  stifled  the  cry  in  her  throat, 
and  she  turned  and  fled.  Fled  up  the  stairs,  past  the 
door  where  she  knew  David  watched,  past  Lee, 
stepping  softly  with  finger  on  her  lips  and  the  news 
that  Miss  Celia,  after  that  long  night  of  pacing 
of  the  floor,  was  asleep  at  last.  And  so  to  her  own 
room.  Yet  even  there  through  an  open  window  she 
seemed  to  hear  the  monotonous  tread  of  thousands 
of  feet,  shuffling  wearily  through  the  dust,  and  she 
ran  to  shut  this  out.  But  from  the  window  one 
glimpse  she  got  above  the  tops  of  the  magnolias  — 
the  tower  of  the  Court-House  on  the  hill,  its  dome 
shining  in  the  quivering  heat,  and,  above  this,  its 
folds  lazily  unfolding  in  the  light  air,  the  flag  which 
for  so  long  had  been  outside  the  city.  She  tore 
down  the  blinds.  Then,  with  fingers  in  her  ears, 

434 


THE       CAPTAIN 

threw  herself  upon  the  bed,  burying  her  face  in  the 
pillows. 

So  she  closed  out  the  sounds  which  were  dreadful 
to  her  and  all  other  sounds  as  well,  and  lay  still, 
trying  not  to  think;  and  before  her  closed  eyes  the 
hot,  dusty  road  and  its  marching  men.  Old  Caesar 
must  have  been  at  her  door  for  a  long  time  when 
at  last  his  muffled,  anxious  voice  reached  her.  She 
raised  her  head  and  bade  him  go  back  and  say  she 
would  not  come  down.  No,  it  made  no  difference 
how  urgent  her  caller  might  be.  But,  strangely 
enough,  Caesar  did  not  go  away.  This  caller,  he 
declared,  was  not  to  be  denied.  He  had  been  told 
she  was  in  the  house.  "  'Deed,  Mis'  Be'trix,  dere 
arn't  nuffin  else  t'  do  but  done  come  down."  He 
had  said  he  must  see  her.  Must!  Why,  he  had  even 
refused  his  name!  Suddenly,  she  sat  upright,  and 
then  with  angry  eyes  stood  in  front  of  her  glass, 
tucking  in  a  loose  lock  of  hair  and  promising  the 
insistent  visitor  a  reception  he  would  not  forget. 

Down-stairs  she  went  into  the  darkened  hall,  her 
gown  caught  in  one  hand,  her  head  back,  and  anger 
flaming  in  her  cheeks.  So  into  the  hallway,  and  it 
was  empty;  and  she  stepped  to  the  parlour,  and 
at  first  saw  no  one  there.  Then,  by  one  of  the 
windows,  she  perceived  a  tall  figure  in  uniform  — 
the  hated  Yankee  uniforms  —  and  halted.  "  You 
wished  to  see  me,  sir?" 

The  figure  moved  toward  her  and  into  the  light 

435 


THE       CAPTAIN 

from  the  hallway.  She  saw  his  face,  the  heavy  hair 
flung  back  from  his  forehead.  Under  the  dark 
brows  his  eyes  kindled.  There  was  a  smile  on  his 
lips.  "  Beatrix !  "  he  said. 

She  did  not  answer  at  once.  The  rebuke  she  had 
prepared  was  forgotten.  Yet  was  it  surprise  which 
fixed  her  there  at  the  doorway,  leaning  a  little  for- 
ward, with  hot  cheeks,  her  lips  parted,  the  anger 
melting  in  her  eyes.  Her  heart  caught  at  her  own 
name,  and  repeated  it.  And  then  —  ?  She  heard  him 
say,  "  Come,"  and  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  had 
waited  for  this  always. 

And  after  that  moment's  pause,  she  obeyed.  Yes, 
obeyed.  She  was  so  close  to  him  that  he  had 
dropped  his  hat,  and  his  arms  were  held  out  to  her, 
before  she  saw  what  she  had  done.  A  flash  of  rebel- 
lion leaped  into  her  face  then.  "  I  will  not ! "  she 
cried,  and  threw  back  her  head. 

His  arms  still  held  out  to  her,  he  repeated,  "  Bea- 
trix!" 

She  held  her  head  yet  higher,  fighting  down  the 
impulse  to  answer  to  the  call,  and  declared,  "  You 
have  no  right  here." 

"  Vicksburg  has  surrendered !  "  he  said,  gravely. 
And  when  this  should  have  been  a  taunt  and  stung 
her  to  retaliation  or  driven  her  to  a  cold  retreat,  it 
left  her  curiously  weak,  and  she  blundered,  "  Then 
go  to  Vicksburg.  Go !  " 

"  All  I  care  for  is  here,"  he  answered.     "  And 

436 


/  will  not  !  "  she  cried,  and  threw  back  her  head 


THE       CAPTAIN 

once  I  had  a  letter.  Do  you  remember,  Beatrix? 
I  was  to  come  for  what  I  wanted.  Now  I  have 
come  for  what  belongs  to  me." 

"  Oh,  oh,  wait !  "  she  cried. 

It  was  pitifully  weak,  that  plea,  and  it  won  no 
mercy.  "  No.  Now."  This  time  it  was  a  com- 
mand ;  and,  suddenly,  all  her  courage  failed  her,  and 
at  its  bidding  she  took  one  step  toward  him.  Then 
was  the  chance  of  retreat  gone  by,  and  she  knew  it. 
Knew  it  when  it  was  too  late.  She  raised  her  eyes 
and  looked  up  into  his  face.  Rebellion  was  fled 
from  her  eyes.  Worse  than  that,  they  cried  aloud 
their  rejoicing  over  this  inglorious  surrender,  and 
she  was  not  ashamed  that  he  should  see  it. 

An  hour  went  by  —  so  fast.  Then  a  step  outside, 
and  she  slipped  from  him  guiltily  and  moved  swiftly 
to  the  door.  At  the  coat-skirts  of  a  marching  regi- 
ment, into  the  road  around  the  shoulder  of  the  ridge 
ahead,  swung  three  men.  And  the  man  between  the 
other  two  was  the  Captain;  his  hands  resting  on 
the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  his  shoulders  a  little 
stooped,  his  face  set  beneath  a  dusty  brim  of  felt, 
but  his  eyes  noting  even  the  little  pickaninny  who 
darted  from  a  hollow  in  the  bank  to  whirl  a  battered 
hat  and  screech  a  welcome. 

A  moment  Boone  stood  beside  her  and  pressed  her 
hand.  Then  he  ran  to  his  horse  and  lifted  himself 
into  the  saddle.  Behind  the  three  riders,  Beatrix 
saw  him  disappear  in  the  cloud  of  dust  which  rose 

437 


THE       CAPTAIN 

where  the  Jackson  road  was  beaten  to  a  powder  by 
thousands  of  feet. 

A  stone  house  stood  just  above  the  sunken  lane 
where  Lee  had  so  often  walked.  In  front  of  this 
the  Captain  dismounted.  On  the  porch  of  the  house 
were  seated  the  Confederate  commander  of  the  city 
and  his  staff.  Every  chair  was  filled.  The  plain 
man  in  the  blue  uniform  stood  by  the  stoop,  pulling 
a  blade  of  grass  between  his  fingers,  and  waiting. 
When  no  one  offered  him  a  seat,  he  smiled,  and 
asked  for  a  glass  of  water.  Some  one  indicated  the 
cistern  back  of  the  house,  and  he  walked  away. 
Boone  swore  wrathfully. 

"  Take  it  easy,"  the  Captain  said.  "  We  can  stand 
it  if  they  can." 

Was  it  a  prophecy?  How  did  the  conquerors  of 
the  city  take  their  triumph  ?  Let  the  recollections  of 
those  who  lived  about  the  Walnut  Hills  bear  witness. 
Let  them  tell  what  they  remember  of  the  Captain 
and  the  gallant  McPherson  and  the  others  beside 
who  held  the  city  in  those  days.  Some  perhaps 
will  recall  the  day  when  the  Captain  rode  out  of  the 
city  for  the  last  time. 

Toiling  up  the  slope  of  that  highest  ridge,  from 
which  he  had  for  so  long  looked  upon  the  city, 
he  drew  rein  upon  its  top.  Was  it  given  him  as 
he  sat  there,  his  head  fallen  a  little  forward  and  to 
one  side,  to  see  the  smoky  distance  of  those  Tennes- 

4-38 


THE       CAPTAIN 

see  mountains  and  the  trodden  fields  of  Virginia 
where  he  was  to  finish  the  task  to  which  he  had 
set  his  hand  away  back  in  a  little  Illinois  town? 
Did  some  recollection  of  those  earlier  days  picture 
for  him  the  gaunt,  homely  figure  of  a  man  in  black 
who  had  believed  in  him  in  the  darkest  hour,  and, 
in  the  hour  of  victory,  wrote  him,  "  You  were  right 
and  I  was  wrong?"  If  so,  these  pictures  brought 
no  smile  of  triumph  to  his  lips.  With  grave  face 
for  a  little  while  he  gazed  over  the  wide  plain  and 
the  great  muddy  river  rolling  its  ceaseless  tide  from 
the  north;  then  he  lifted  the  reins  and  spoke  to  his 
horse. 

"  Come,  Jeff,  there  is  plenty  ahead  of  us  to  do." 


THE    END. 


439 


The  Captain 


By  CHURCHILL  WILLIAMS,  author  of  "J.  Devlin  — 
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TVTHO  is  the  Captain  ?  thousands  of  readers  of  this  fine 
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of  scenes  and  characters  before  and  during  the  great  civil 
conflict.  It  has  lots  of  color  and  movement,  and  the  splen- 
did figure  naming  the  book  dominates  the  whole. 


J.  Devlin — Boss 

A    ROMANCE    OF    AMERICAN    POLITICS.     Blue 
cloth,  decorative  cover.     J2mo.    Price,  $1.50. 


Mary  £.  Wilkins  says : 

"  I  am  delighted  with  your  book.  Of  all  the  first  novels, 
I  believe  yours  is  the  very  best.  The  novel  is  American 
to  the  core.  The  spirit  of  the  times  is  in  it.  It  is  inimita- 
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except  a  real  novelist  could  have  written  it." 

Lothrop  Publishing  Company  -   -  Boston 


By  GEORGE  GARY  EGGLESTON,  Author  of  "  Dor- 
othy South,"  "A  Carolina  Cavalier."  Six  Illustrations 
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'""THE  MASTER  OF  WARLOCK  "has  an  interest- 
*•  ing  plot,  and  is  full  of  purity  of  sentiment,  charm  of 
atmosphere,  and  stirring  doings.  One  of  the  typical  family 
feuds  of  Virginia  separates  the  lovers  at  first ;  but,  when 
the  hero  goes  to  the  war,  the  heroine  undergoes  many 
hardships  and  adventures  to  serve  him,  and  they  are  hap- 
pily united  in  the  end. 

Dorothy  South 

A  STORY  OF  VIRGINIA  JUST  BEFORE  THE  WAR 

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us  we  have  a  peculiarly  interesting  picture  of  the  Virginian 
in  the  late  fifties.  We  are  taken  into  the  life  of  the  people. 
We  are  shown  the  hearts  of  men  and  women.  Characters 
are  clearly  drawn,  and  incidents  are  skilfully  presented. 

A  Carolina  Cavalier 

A  STIRRING  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  ADVENTURE 

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We  have  seldom  found  a  stronger  and  simpler  appeal  to 
our  manhood  and  love  of  country." 

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The  Life  Within 


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•*  I  'HIS  is  a  striking  story  in  which  Christian  Sci- 
ence furnishes  the  motive.  The  author  is 
anonymous,  and  the  story  will  arouse  general  dis- 
cussion as  to  who  is  the  writer  behind  the  book. 
The  wonder-workings  of  this  new  faith  which  have 
come  into  such  wide  popularity  and  influence,  are 
set  forth  in  a  plot  so  enthralling,  that  whatever 
one's  attitude  toward  the  questions  involved,  the 
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and  the  tremendous  spiritual  problems  presented  in 
this  able  novel. 


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"  /^LIVEDEN"  is  an  historical  romance  by  Kenyon 
^•^  West,  favorably  known  as  the  author  of  sev- 
eral books  of  fiction  and  criticism.  The  story  — 
which  is  quick  in  action,  picturesque  in  scene,  and 
dramatic  in  situation  —  centres  in  the  famous  Chew 
House  in  Germantown,  during  the  Revolutionary 
War,  at  the  time  when  the  battles  of  Brandywine 
and  Germantown  were  being  fought,  and  the  British 
General  Howe  was  threatening  the  native  forces. 
Both  sides  of  the  struggle  are  represented,  the 
American  patriots  and  the  British  redcoats,  and  a 
charming  love-story  is  developed,  in  which  the 
principals  are  a  well-born  American  beauty  and  a 
British  officer  with  a  noble  character.  The  Chew 
residence  is  in  a  state  of  siege,  and  the  attempts 
of  a  British  spy  to  wreck  the  fortunes  of  General 
Washington,  who  is  only  a  few  miles  off,  make 
exciting  reading.  The  volume  is  given  an  appro- 
priate patriotic  dress. 

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